


HOME (part 1)

by Incantation67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caretaking, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Hurt Sam, Kitchen Sex, demon torture, emotional angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incantation67/pseuds/Incantation67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the future, Dean accidentally runs into someone he never thought he'd see again and gets drawn back into a life he thought he'd left behind forever.</p><p>4 years in the writing, this is my love letter to Sam and Dean.  It's what I'd want for these characters who have been in my head and my life for so long.</p><p>Starts in 2018 and stretches to 2043, with most of it taking place during the period of a couple of years.</p><p>Part 1 has photos and part 2 has illustrations.</p><p>All comments welcome.  Thanks for reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. HOME (part 1) chapters 1 - 8

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for part 1: Some (early & brief) heterosexual sexual content (all very consensual), slight dirty talk, lots of "language" (the f-bomb is flying all over the place), violence (guns, knives...c'mon; it's SPN!...but it's all in the context of hunting), emotional angst, very brief mention of possible suicide but no actual suicide, lesbian kissing, mention of lesbian sex but no actual sex, short scenes including recreational alcohol use.
> 
> Mostly sticks to canon, with a few alterations....for this story, Garth was never turned into a werewolf and Cas is written more as "old Cas" than he is in later seasons (even though this is set in the future) because "old Cas" was the best Cas.
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything is complete fiction. All characters are not mine.
> 
> Photos (part 1): The photos are mine, taken by me. All are real with just a little Photoshop magic on a couple.
> 
> Lastly: This has been over 4 years in the writing. This is my love letter to Sam & Dean.  
> I may only have one SPN story in me, but I wanted to tell it. This is what I would want for these characters that have been in my head and my life for so many years.

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

1.  
   
September 6, 2018

Dean slipped silently through the door of the crappiest bar in town.  He was exhausted and did not want to see anyone, let alone talk to anyone.  Yet he didn't want to be alone in the motel room either.  So he chose the darkest booth in the very back corner and collapsed into it.

He looked around.  He had chosen well, not many people in the place.  About eight people scattered throughout and a couple at the bar.  It was appropriately dark.  He was pretty sure the place wasn't known for its cleanliness but they kept the lights so low that it really didn't matter.

A waitress appeared next to his table, "What can I get you, hon?" Dean looked up.  She was about 65 and looked like she might have started working in this very bar around 1979. 

"Whiskey.  And if you could make that a double, I'd appreciate it.".

"Anything you want, darlin' ", she said with a wink.

Dean smiled to himself.  Even in his current worn-out, unshaven, beat-to-hell condition, women were winking at him.  Okay, she wasn't 23, but it still counted.  He had to admit that he was pretty far from 23 himself these days too.

Dean noticed that the couple at the bar seemed to be quietly arguing.  As quietly as two people can argue.  The woman had her hand on the man's arm as their voices started to rise.  Dean wondered if he ought to step in.  Maybe she needed some help with this guy.  But as soon as the thought went through his mind, he saw the man throw off her hand and storm out of the place, slamming the door on his way out.  She was left sitting alone.  Dean could hardly see her from across the darkened room, but what he saw was attractive.  He was so exhausted, ‘How could I even be thinking about that?’ he wondered.  It would be better to mind his own business tonight. 

As if that ever happened.

Dean was into his third whiskey, thinking over what had unfolded over the past week.  He had parted ways with Sam for awhile.  They had gotten a call from Garth, asking if they would help him pursue a new case he'd honed in on.  Dean was up for it, but Sam could be a bit moody and he had been more moody that usual lately.  They agreed that maybe Sam should go sit this one out at the cabin. Though the cabin had belonged to Bobby years ago, it had pretty much become their getaway in recent years when they had to take a break from everything including their home at the bunker.  There was no extensive library at the cabin, no chance that someone might turn up looking for help, so that's where Dean thought Sam should go until he could clear his head.   Sam had begrudgingly agreed.

The last case they worked together seemed to have gotten to Sam more than most.  There were two brothers and one decided to try to get ahead in life with the help of demon he had figured out how to summon.  But the demon he summoned possessed his younger brother instead and that poor guy didn't make it through the exorcism.  After they sent the demon back to hell, and before the younger brother's body gave out for good, he had the chance to look up at his older brother and whisper "I forgive you" before he was gone.  Even Dean had to admit it was pretty heartbreaking to watch.  The surviving brother was destroyed over the loss and Sam just couldn't seem to shake the look on that guy’s face.  Sam wasn't sleeping.  Dean didn't know quite what to do for him when whisky didn't work.  Dean was pretty sure he just needed a break and the cabin was so isolated, it was the best place for that.  Maybe he should give Sam a call to make sure he made it back okay....after all, he was driving some old piece of crap that they had hotwired.  Dean reached for his phone.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder.  He looked up to find the woman from the bar.  Now that she was right next to him, he could see her clearly.

Very clearly. 

Her dark hair fell softly to her shoulders.  Her dark eyes looked, well, they looked extremely kind.  Every muscle in his body tightened and he felt like someone had inserted an ice pick into the base of his skull.  His mouth went dry.

"I noticed we're both alone in this dive."  She said.

Dean honestly didn't know if he would even be able to speak.  But he managed to croak, "You look familiar...have we met before?".  He hoped with every fiber of his being that she couldn't tell how shaken he was.

"I'm sure we haven't met before," she responded.  "I definitely would have remembered meeting you,” she said suggestively, looking him up and down quickly.  She smiled the most open and heartfelt smile as she introduced herself. 

Dean saw that smile in his mind every night before he fell asleep.  He'd been seeing that smile every night for the past seven years whenever he had to call up the strength to go on.  Whenever he was too lonely to stand it.  Whenever he started hating his life on the road.  Whenever he was alone in a hotel room with his own dick in his hand trying desperately to relieve some of the frustration he felt after letting himself think about this face and this body for a just little too long.

He responded, "I'm Dean."

She slid into the booth across the table from him. "Do you mind?" she asked.  Dean shook his head 'no' but couldn't say anything more.  "What are you drinking?" she asked.  "I'll buy your next one." 

"Whiskey", Dean responded.  "But I think I'd better slow down a bit."  He did not want to lose his head.  He had to stay sharp. 

"Well, it IS getting kinda late, " she said.  "How about coffee?"

"Good idea", said Dean.

Half an hour later, they were still sitting together in the back corner booth.  Mostly, Dean had just been listening to her.  He could not get enough of her voice, though he wasn't always completely focused on what she was saying...mostly just small talk but the way she was looking at him, he knew that body language.  Suddenly he realized that she had stopped talking.  He snapped back to the present.  She looked at him with a questioning expression.

"Are you okay?", she asked. 

 _'Shit'_ , thought Dean, _'I should have been more careful...'_

She continued, "You're just looking at me like you can see right through me.  Is everything alright?" 

Dean rubbed his face with his hand, "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just been a tough couple of weeks.  Actually, it's been a tough couple of years, but I don't need to bother you with any of that."  He caught himself before he just started spilling everything.

"You may think this sounds crazy," she said, "but I just feel this connection with you...like we have a history.  Have you ever felt that way with someone you just met?" 

"No," Dean lied. 

Dean knew he was walking on a knife edge here, but he couldn't help it, and let slip, "But anyone who had a history with you would have been crazy to let you go."

She got up and moved to his side of the table.  She lowered herself onto the bench seat next to him.  He felt her hand on his thigh and realized he probably wasn't going to be able to stand up anytime soon.  His jeans were tighter suddenly and he felt an ache he hadn't felt in a long time.  She leaned over and touched his face, then got closer and leaned in until her lips touched his. 

Dean's brain was screaming at him, _‘Get up NOW! Get the hell out of here!  If you know what's good for you and for her, get up and go NOW!’_

But he couldn't move.  She was kissing him and he was kissing her back.  Hard.  As if he were starving for her.  He was an expert at controlling his emotions, but the things he was feeling right now were coming from a place so deep, it caught him off-guard.  And she wasn't backing off, unfazed by his sudden intensity.

He felt her arms around him and her hands moving down his back; moving lower.  Usually he would stop things at this point.  Too many complications.  Too difficult.  Or at least he'd take control of the situation.  He really hated the feeling of being out of control.  But he wanted her to take the lead.  He wanted to let go for once.

As she pressed up against him, he didn't care if it was a bad idea.  Why wasn't he allowed to ever be happy?  No one ever gets a second chance for a first meeting with the love of their lives.  He couldn't walk away and he couldn't stop.  So he gave in.

"Maybe we should get out of here," Dean said with some difficulty.  She took a deep breath and nodded.  She smiled and blushed a bit as she saw he had some difficulty straightening up from the seat.  Shit, he felt his own face get a little red.  It's not like he was 17, why did he feel this way?

Dean paused, "Will this cause problems with you and your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Boyfriend?" she asked with a perplexed look.

"The guy you were with when I first got here," Dean said.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "That wasn't my boyfriend, he was family.  We weren't seeing eye to eye.  I really don't want to talk about it."

"Fine by me," said Dean, relieved.  He understood not wanting to talk about family.

Dean took her hand and they headed towards the door to the waiting Impala outside.  He couldn't let on how much he knew.  Right now, his mind wasn't in the mode of being cautious, actually, his mind was reeling, but he had enough wherewithal to say,

"It's Lisa, right?"

 

 

 

2. 

"Where's your car?" Dean asked as they got out to the parking lot. 

"I don't drive," Lisa responded.  "Not anymore.  I was in a bad accident about seven years ago and it kind of put me off driving.  I was planning to call a cab."

"Well, my car's right over here," Dean motioned towards the Impala.

"Great car," she said.

Dean smiled.

He was a few feet behind her so he quickly activated his phone in his pocket and sent a TM (thought message) ‘Garth, don't wait up.  I'm okay.’  Thank God technology had finally caught up with his abilities (or lack thereof)...he never had gotten the hang of text-messaging, but now all you had to do was think the message and send it; came in very handy when you had to remain silent on a stakeout.

He turned off his phone and caught up with Lisa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

3.

"Dean..." Lisa whispered.  They were in her bed.  She straddled him and their bodies were radiating heat.  She didn't want to let go of the feeling of him deep inside of her.  The sun was about to come up.  "That was...incredible." 

And it had been.  Four hours of incredible.  Dean knew just where to place his tongue, his hands, and just when to thrust; and how hard and how deep: he knew what she liked.  He knew desires she had and things she was into that she had never told anyone else.  He could tell how much she was enjoying him and that turned him on even more.  He had honestly started to wonder if this kind of overwhelming sex was behind him...something he could only look back on.  Any sex he'd had in recent years was strictly limited to one night only and he often felt slightly physically ill afterwards.  As he lay there with Lisa on top of him, he still inside her, he could not remember a time he felt better.  He knew this situation was fraught with the potential for disaster, but somewhere under that knowledge, there was a peace that he longed for almost more than anything.  More than revenge, even more than sex.

Lisa hadn't been with anyone in quite awhile; more than a few years.  She hadn't felt like she had a grip on her own life and a relationship, even a one-night stand, was really out of the question.  So she was a bit shocked at her own actions...not only had she brought a stranger home, but this Dean guy seemed to know what she wanted and needed half a second before she knew it herself.  She was out of practice, for sure, so she questioned her own powers of evaluation, but the sex had been more amazing than anything she could remember.

Dean smiled and looked up at her beautiful face, her hair cascading down towards him, and pulled her close; feeling her full breasts up against him.  "Do you want some food or something?", she asked.  "No, no, I'm good," Dean said quietly.  "Actually, I'm better than good.  But I am completely and totally exhausted."  He pulled her even closer and kissed her gently.

Lisa reluctantly pulled her lips away, "Me too," she said.  "Will you stay?"

Wasn't that the million dollar question?  He should not even have stayed this long.  But he truly was worn out on every level.  _'I'll just close my eyes for an hour,'_ he thought.  He smiled and said, "I'd love that, if it's okay with you."

"I've never wanted anything more," she replied contentedly.

As he fell asleep, Dean let himself think back 20 years to something he never allowed himself to think about.  The first night he spent with the only woman who mattered.  It was the best night of his life which quickly turned into the best week of his life.  Yeah, he was only 19 at the time himself, and back then it was all about the sex.  But there was more.  He never expected it, but he felt he could actually talk to this woman.  He never talked to anyone. 

Well, except for Sam, and he usually didn't tell Sam everything.

She was different.  He didn't have to pretend with her.  And now, here she was, sleeping next to him again.  The attraction was just as intense now as it had been then.  That was his last thought before he was out.  Dead to the world.

 

 

 

4.

Dean woke with a start.  There was something sitting at the foot of the bed.  He quickly glanced to his left.  Thank God.  Lisa was still there.  Still breathing.  He was ready to spring on whatever it was when a voice stopped him.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

It was Cas.

"Don't worry, she can't hear us and she won't wake up," he continued.

"Shit, Cas," exclaimed Dean, "...what have you been doing; watching us sleep?  Hell, were you watching us while we were...you know?"

"If it's any consolation, I don't find your physical endeavors with Lisa at all interesting," Cas offered.

"Boundaries Cas, BOUNDARIES!" Dean bellowed at him.

Cas turned to look at him with concern in his eyes. He repeated, "What are you doing here, Dean?"

Dean shrugged.  “I don’t know Cas.  Why does my life always have to be a river of shit?  Last night, this angel appeared..."

"I was not near you last night," Cas stated matter-of-factly.

Dean went on, "well, not you, I mean, I'm talking about her.  Dammit Cas,  you know what I mean!..."

Cas gave Dean a puzzled look.

"Nevermind...Lisa, she just showed up out of nowhere.   I tried to walk away, Cas.  Really, I tried, but...." Dean trailed off.

"You didn't try hard enough," finished Cas.

Dean shot him an irritated look, "A little sympathy would be nice here, Cas."

"But it was your last request of me," Cas stated, "that they not remember you at all."

"I know, I know..." said Dean.  "But that's what's so good; she doesn't know any of that and she wanted to be with me.  ME Cas."  

"Dean, she doesn't know YOU.  You're a guy she was physically attracted to in a bar full of lonely people," Cas pointed out.

"Thanks for the pep talk," Dean said angrily.  "I honestly don't know what I'm doing.  Just please let me have this, just for awhile.  You of all people know I never get a clean slate.  Hell, there hasn't been a clean slate for a Winchester in generations."

"That is true," Cas stated thoughtfully.  "You know I owe you Dean.  I owe you more than I can ever repay."  Cas' face softened a bit. "You should know I've been watching over them for the past seven years...Ben and Lisa...just to make sure they were okay."

Oh my God; Ben...of course he never left Dean's mind entirely, but he hadn't been his first thought last night.  He couldn't deal with that right now.

"Thanks Cas.  That means a lot to me." Dean said.

"I know how much you care for them," said Cas.  "I'll give you some time, but I'm not far away if you need me."  The next things Dean heard was the soft sound of wind moving through feathers, and Cas was gone.

 

 

 

5.

Dean stuck his head out of the bathroom door and looked towards the bed, but the bed was empty.  He threw on a pair of sweatpants that had been left there for him and headed to the kitchen.

"I found a pack of razors and some clippers in there...I hope you don't mind," he said as he walked towards Lisa who was standing at the sink with her back to him.  "Thank God; you made coffee; you're a mind reader."

She turned around and couldn't help but stare.  The scruffy, unshaven guy she had an incredible night with had transformed into, well, into the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.  Bare-chested, wearing only sweatpants...she could still see the scars she had noticed the night before; or rather, she had felt his scars; her hands had been all over every inch of his body.  She wondered what the story was behind those scars.

"It felt great to shave.  Hope that's okay." Dean said as he walked over to her.

"No, no, that's fine; those razor blades were my son's but he doesn't live here anymore, so they're yours.” She faced forward quickly, not wanting him to see how turned on she was.  Again.

 _'My God, she's beautiful'_ , Dean thought to himself. She had her back to him and she was wearing only an oversized t-shirt, but he felt a rush of blood somewhere he hadn't expected.  ' _Really?!  Again?!'_ he thought, _'I mean, shouldn't four hours have been enough last night?'_ But he hadn't felt so attracted to anyone for, well, not for the past 20 years.

He didn't want to assume she felt the same.  Maybe she was having morning-after regrets.  So he slowly put his arms around her and she leaned back against him.  _'Good sign,'_ he thought.  He gently put his hand under her t-shirt.  He started at her thigh and moved upward until he couldn’t go any further.  She felt like hot liquid satin.  She felt like heaven.  Actually, Dean had been to heaven.  This was better.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

She leaned into his hand as he insistently caressed her and she felt him, hard, pushing up against the small of her back.  She reached back, stroking him softly, and then more with more urgency.  Last night, he had made sure to always let her take the lead, even though he knew exactly what she'd want him to do next every step of the way, but this morning his need for her was so strong.  He turned her to face him and easily lifted her up onto the edge of the counter.  She opened up to him immediately.

Dean wasted no time.  He needed to be inside her.  Now.

His first thrust was deep and Lisa inhaled sharply and winced.  Dean froze though holding still took monumental restraint.

Dean's face was lined with concern, "Did I hurt you?" He asked.

"No," Lisa responded rather breathlessly, "things are just a little sensitive after last night...don't stop."

"But I don't want to hurt you," he insisted, still frozen inside her and harder than he had been able to get since he was 18.

"It only hurts a little...in a good way," said Lisa with a slight smile.  God, she was so wet.  Sore muscles be damned.

Dean's eyebrow raised slightly and there was a small smile starting at one corner of his mouth, "So you like a little pain?" he asked, intrigued.

"Sometimes," replied Lisa with a suggestive smile.

Dean wrapped an arm around her waist, making sure they remained interlocked.  "Is now one of those times?" He asked with a full smile.

"Yeah," breathed Lisa. "I'm not going to break...fuck me Dean, please."

Hearing those words from her almost made Dean come right then and there.

Her need for him was just as strong as his for her. 

He did as he was told.

He took her right there in the kitchen with such intensity it was almost scary.  But she was not scared in the least.  She felt fully and truly alive.  Something insatiable was burning through both of them with a sublime intensity.

 

 

 

6.

Some time later they were sitting together in the kitchen, drinking the coffee they had neglected earlier.  They had both decided, independently and without discussing it that it might be a good idea to finally get dressed, or else they might easily spend the entire day horizontal.

"So," Lisa started, "tell me what you do."

Dean fleetingly wondered if there was any way he could seduce her into having sex again...if they weren't having sex, they were going to have to talk.  He wanted to tell her everything.  Lying to her went against every fiber of his being.  He lied so easily to so many people and rarely felt any guilt about it, but with her, he wanted to be completely honest.  That was not going to be possible.

"I'm a private investigator," Dean said.  It wasn't the whole truth, but it was a lie he could live with.  It was at least in the ballpark of what he did.  The whitewashed being-with-me-won't-get-you-killed ballpark.

"Really?" Lisa asked with an arched eyebrow.  For a second Dean worried she hadn't believed him.  "How terribly respectable," she said with a smile.  "Usually I'm attracted to bad boys."

Dean moved in to kiss her, "You have no idea,” he said.

 

 

 

7.

If he was going to be here for a few more days, Dean decided he should take a few precautions, starting with having at least one weapon at the ready.  He went to the Impala and retrieved his favorite pearl-handled revolver.

Where to stash it....well, if he was lucky, he hoped to be spending more time in the bedroom, so he knelt down to insert the pistol between the mattress and the box spring; within easy reach.  He noticed something under the bed and felt the familiar coldness of the barrel of a shotgun when he reached under to investigate.   _'That's interesting,'_ thought Dean.  That hadn't been there the last time he was in Lisa’s house.

 

 

 

8.

It had been a beautiful four days.  They hadn't left the house except for one beer & grocery run late on day three.  Dean almost felt like those four days had somehow made up for the last seven years.  Lisa was intoxicating.  The way he felt about her was addictive.  Dean heard her washing dishes in the kitchen as he wished the rest of the world would just disappear.  He was shaken from his thoughts by the ringing doorbell.  As he always did, he approached the door slowly, making sure to see who was outside first.  He looked out through the sidelights and rolled his eyes in recognition.  He slid open the deadbolt.

"Hello my brother from another mother!" Garth said as he enthusiastically embraced Dean at the door.

"Okay, okay," said Dean with some embarrassment, "It's good to see you too, Garth.  Wait a minute...how did you find me here?"

Garth leaned close and lowered his voice. "I slipped a little Lo-Jac onto your car, bro," he told Dean, looking extremely proud of himself.  "I didn't want you out here flying solo."

"Thanks?  I guess?" Dean said with some irritation.  He wasn't crazy about Garth knowing where he was every moment of the day and night.

Garth playfully punched Dean in the arm, "Aw, don't mention it," he said.  "You know I've got your back.” Garth moved in to give Dean another hug, but Dean put up a hand to stop him and Garth sheepishly took a step back.

"Where have you been, man?" Garth asked. "You been here the whole time?  Entertaining the ladies???"  He craned his neck to look past Dean into the house.

"No, Garth, it's not like that," Dean started to explain.

"Well, I thank you for the shore leave, bro....I had a great two days then took two more to recover, if you know what I mean.  The ladies love the Garthmeister.  They can't get enough," bragged Garth.

"You don't say?" said Dean, amused.

"So, are you ready to go?  Where's your stuff?" Garth asked.  "I got back to the motel and it looked like you had never been there."

"I never got that far.  I..." Dean abruptly stopped when Lisa appeared next to him in the doorway.

"Well HELL-O," said Garth, looking Lisa up and down.  "Very pleased to meet you.  I'm Garth."  Garth extended his hand.

"Lisa," she responded with a smile, shaking Garth's hand politely.  "Friend of yours?" she asked Dean.

"Co-worker, actually,” Dean responded. 

"Oh; so you two travel together for work?" asked Lisa.

"Yes" said Dean and Garth in unison, then looked at each other.

"Lis’", said Dean (it was amazing how quickly he had fallen back into calling her that and she didn't object to his sudden familiarity), would you excuse me for just a second?  I need to have a word with Garth."  He tried to say it in his most innocent nothing-to-hide voice, but Lisa still have him a questioning look.

"Sure," she said.  "Nice to meet you Garth."

"The pleasure was all mine, believe me," Garth responded.  Garth continued, "it's so nice to meet a friend of Dean's and I'd love to..."  Dean smiled at Lisa apologetically as he stepped outside and closed the door cutting off Garth in mid-sentence as they both stood out on the porch.

"Geez, Dean," Garth said with a disappointed look on his face, "I was just trying to get to you know your ladyfriend better."  Garth looked at the ground.

" 'Ladyfriend'?" Dean mockingly repeated.  "What are you, Garth, like 80 years old?"

Garth straightened up and looked at Dean with proud defiance, "No, Dean, I am a GENTLEMAN." he declared.

Dean broke into a smile without meaning to.  He loved this about Garth, his supreme self confidence.  "Sorry to cut you off with Lisa," Dean apologized.

"Nah, nevermind dude," said Garth.  "We're all good," he said as he patted Dean on the shoulder.  Dean had no idea why it seemed Garth always had to be touching him.  Usually that would drive him crazy, but he had a soft spot for Garth.  Garth didn't have a single conniving or underhanded bone in his body.  Dean found that refreshing.  With Garth, what you saw was what you got.

"Okay, so, about the job," Garth started, "are you ready to hit the road and see what's going on in this town?"

Garth picked up on the fact that Dean didn't respond immediately.  "Okay, what's going on here?" he asked.

Dean didn't know how much he should say.  Probably as little as possible.  He decided to go with; "Lisa; we, well, we met at a bar a few nights ago right after you and I talked about how we both needed a few days off before we got started on this case.  We haven't left the house much," Dean admitted...trying to sound modest but the way his smile spread across his face, Garth got it immediately.

"You DAWG!" Garth said with a huge grin.  "So, that good, huh?" he asked, nudging Dean.  "I want details," Garth continued in his no-boundaries, overly-personal way.

"Well, I can promise you that you aren't going to GET any details," Dean admonished him.

Garth's face fell, "Okay, but a guy has to ask," he said.

"Does he, Garth?" asked Dean sarcastically, trying to let Garth know he really needed to respect Dean's privacy at SOME level.

"So...what's the plan then?" Garth asked.

"Is there any way you could give me another day or two?" Dean asked, though he felt a bit guilty asking.

"Sure," responded Garth.  "I can pick up the trail on these demons...I'll follow the signs and see who they are interested in here and why."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, "Thanks, man, but don't go in all guns blazing...if you run into trouble, call me."

"Will do, mi hermano," replied Garth as he casually walked down the front steps.  "Don't forget to stay hydrated," he said suggestively over his shoulder.

"Shut up," said Dean as he went back inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Lisa was on the couch.  "So that was your partner?" she asked. 

"More of a co-worker," said Dean.  "He's a specialist and I call him up when I need a second set of eyes on a case."

"And what's his specialty?" questioned Lisa.  _'Stupid,'_ thought Dean, _'of course that would be her next_ _question.’_

"He's an expert in, uh, human behavior," Dean tried to sound as convincing as possible.

"Like a social worker?" asked Lisa.

"Yes," said Dean confidently, "like a social worker".

"Do you need to go?" Lisa asked.  Dean was sure he heard some trepidation in her voice.

"No, no," he brushed it off, "Garth is going to get started on the case we're looking into and I'll meet back up with him a day or two,”  Dean said.

Lisa looked visibly relieved.  She didn't know what she'd do in a day or two, but she was trying to do better at living in the moment, and, right now, she had Dean and it felt completely, unexpectedly, right.

"So," Dean continued, "now that we've know each other for so long," Lisa playfully swatted at him and he smiled, "tell me more about you.   You said you have a son?" Dean asked. _'Be careful,’_ he said to himself. 

"Yes," replied Lisa.  "Ben.  We aren't getting along that well right now," she continued.

"Is that something his dad could talk to him about?"  Dean knew he was in dangerous territory.

"His Dad?", Lisa arched an eyebrow.  "No, his dad's out of the picture.  He was some guy that I had an incredible weekend with 20 years ago.  A one-night, well, one-week stand.  You know, since the accident, I really can't remember what he even looked like."

 _'Cas, I'm glad you're so thorough,'_ Dean thought to himself.  20 years ago...one-week stand...he already knew the truth.  He’s really always known the truth.

"I know it's none of my business, but what's the problem?" Dean cautiously continued.

"He's such a smart kid, but he gets bored with school and he dropped out of community college about a month ago.  He's smart enough to have gotten a scholarship anywhere in the country he wanted to go, but he didn't take the time to complete the financial aid applications and he missed the deadlines...so all we could afford was community college.  He went for a semester, but he got bored like he always does and he said he'd rather be out working.  I told him if he wasn't going to stay in school, if he was set on living his own life, then he could pay his own way too.  That's why he's not living here.  He could be anything he wanted to be and he just doesn't seem to believe that," Lisa sighed.

"Sometimes a kid just has to find his own way," Dean tried to be comforting.

"Sometimes a kid needs a kick in the ass," Lisa responded in exasperation.

 

 


	2. HOME (part 1) - chapters 9 - 14

9.

That night, Lisa and Dean were on the couch.  She was curled up against him (Lisa still marveled a bit that this apparently nomadic guy with the hot car was happy to be wrapped up with her under a blanket on the couch).  Dean said, "Um, I dropped my coffee cup this morning and it rolled under the bed....I went to get it and I found a shotgun under there...do you hunt deer or something?" 

"No," Lisa responded, "I could never kill anything."  She sighed. 

Dean looked at her, trying not to look like he expected an explanation.  But Lisa picked up on it anyway.

"After I threw Ben out, well, the house just seemed awfully lonely and quiet,"  Lisa started.  "I'd be sitting on the couch at night and just kept thinking I saw something moving in the shadows; just out of the corner of my eye.  I knew it was all in my head, but I just didn't feel safe.  Sometimes I felt like I was being watched.  So I decided to take a class."

"What kind of class?" asked Dean.  "Self defense? Tae-kwon-do?"

"Firearms safety," Lisa responded.   "It turns out I have a bit of a gift for it.  Not to brag, but I was the best shot in the group," she smiled.

Dean smiled back.  "Well, you are full of surprises," Dean said, pulling Lisa closer.  "Should I be worried?  Are you packing right now?" he teased.  "I think I need to frisk you."

Lisa laughed and swatted at him.  "I only have the old shotgun; it used to belong to my dad, but he only taught me how to clean it.  Now that I know how to use it, I must say, I feel safer."

"Well, you don't have to worry about feeling safe; you have me."  Dean abruptly stopped himself.  Here he was, going on as if he was moving in and staying forever.  He should not make promises he couldn't keep.

Lisa interrupted his thoughts as she looked at him with an intensity in her eyes that made Dean lose his train of thought.  "I have never felt safer than I do with I'm with you."  She laid her head on his chest.

Dean's throat tightened.  That's all he ever wanted to provide for her.  For everyone he loved; to keep them safe.  He couldn't help but think to himself how ironic it was that she felt so safe with him when he knew that all he had ever done was endanger her and Ben with his line of work.  At that moment, he knew this was not going to be a repeat of his perfect one-week stand he had when they first met.  He could not, he would not walk away from this again. 

Ever.

 

 

 

10.

Later that night there was a knock at the front door. "Lis', you expecting someone?" Dean called out.

"No!" came Lisa's voice from the back of the house. Dean drew his pistol and got up close to the door.  He looked out through the sheer curtains and didn't recognize the guy standing there.  He shoved the pistol in the back of his waistband and cautiously opened the door.  "Can I help you?" he asked. 

"Where's Lisa?" asked the fidgety 20-something guy who stood facing him. 

"She's not here right now, she's..." Dean trailed off when the heard the distinctive cock of a shotgun behind him.  He instinctively ducked, then turned and was shocked to see Lisa sighting down the barrel, directly at the guy on the porch.  He fleetingly wondered if it was wrong of him to be more than a little turned on.

"Get the hell off my property, Trevor," Lisa said with a steely voice.

"Uh, I just need to talk to you," responded the guy on the porch, nervously.

"I think the lady asked you to leave," Dean stated firmly.

"Who the hell is he?", asked Trevor, pointing down at Dean.

"None of your business.  Now get the hell out of my sight," Lisa said.

"Um, okay, I'll go, but I need to talk to you Lisa.  I'll be back," Trevor said as he headed down the porch steps.

Dean closed the door.  "Okay, what was that about?" he asked, more than a little concerned.  "Were you really going to shoot that kid?"

"Of course not!" Lisa responded, lowering the shotgun.  "He's a friend of Ben's.  Trevor used to be a good kid, but got messed up with drugs.  He tried to steal from us once when Ben had him over last year and I told him he was done with my family."

"What do you think he wanted?" asked Dean.

"Probably wanted to tell me that Ben needed money...it was probably a ploy to get something out of me, using Ben as an excuse.  I'm telling you, Trevor is a master manipulator and I'm just not playing along anymore," Lisa said, her voice sounding tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Outside, Trevor rounded the corner and took out his phone, "It's him.  Winchester," he said as he walked.

The driver of the El Camino parked in the driveway next door heard every word.

 

 

 

11.

The next day, Dean was out in the driveway getting a shirt out of his bag in the trunk when he noticed he had a cracked taillight.

 _'Shit,'_ he thought, it's not like you can find replacement parts for a '67 just anywhere.   Dean hated having anything broken on his car though.  He knew it would eat at him if he didn't get it fixed.

He walked in through the kitchen door and called out, "Hey Lis’?  I'm headed out for awhile; I need to pick up something for the car!"  He started to head back to the driveway...he'd find something in town that might work for the taillight.  Lisa ran out to stop him. "Wait!" she said, "you might want to try the salvage yard out on County Line Road."  Lisa quietly added,  "And you might run into Ben there." 

Dean stopped. 

"He works out there," Lisa continued.  "If you want to meet him, it might be best to meet him without me around; unless you enjoy awkward family tension."

Dean pulled her close, "No, I think I'll skip the drama, but thanks for the heads-up."  He kissed the top of her head before getting into the Impala and driving off.  His stomach was doing small flips at the thought of running into Ben.

 

 

 

 

 

 

12.

It was a gorgeous fall day.  Dean had all the windows down and the music blasting in no time, trying to take his mind off of where he was going and who he might see there.  He thought about not going to the salvage yard, but now that he knew Ben was there, he was drawn to it like a magnet.  As much as it scared the crap out of him. 

Leaves flew as he roared down the 2-lane highway.  He had not felt this good in, well, he couldn't remember when he last felt like this.  Calm.  Satisfied.  No, he wasn't really in control of much right now, but somehow, that was okay.  But what the hell was he going to say to Ben?  He'd thought about it for seven years.  He drove the ten miles to the edge of town and found the turn-off for the salvage yard.

Dean pulled in slowly.  Old carcasses of cars were everywhere in relatively neat rows.  Most were here to be used as parts cars.  They looked as if they had been picked-over by vultures...an empty socket where a headlight used to be, a stripped hood, an entire side panel missing revealing the guts inside the door.  But Dean didn't see that.  He only saw the classic vehicles waiting to be saved.  Funny.  He couldn't help it.  He was just built to want to save things.  People.  Cars.  The world.  No big deal.  Now he was making himself smile.  He knew he was just trying to put himself at ease because he was about to run into someone who rarely left his thoughts.

Dean entered the office to the smell of oil and gasoline.  He loved that smell.  There was a fat guy in a trucker hat and overalls quickly closing the window on his computer at the desk, trying to hide the fact he'd been surfing porn.  Dean noticed and smiled to himself but decided not to embarrass the guy and kept his smart comments to himself this time. 

"Uh, can I help you?" the guy asked.

"I'm looking for Ben.  Ben Braeden," Dean said.  Better to just face it.  Finally.

The guy gestured towards the vast auto yard.  "He's out there taking a lunch break...probably in his car.  Just look for the black '69 Mustang that's not missing as many parts as everything else out there."

Dean thanked the guy and headed out the door.

He drove slowly through the rows of cars.  He heard the Mustang before he saw it....Guns 'N' Roses blaring, windows down, a pair of feet sticking out the driver's window and the seat laid back.  Dean shut off the Impala and walked up behind the car, knocking on the rear window.  The guy was eating lunch; a cheeseburger and a Coke and, what the heck was he doing?  He was reading.  A book.  The guy in the front seat jumped and quickly dropped the book onto the passenger seat.

"Dammit man, you almost scared the shit out of me!" said Ben.  "What do you want?" he asked Dean.

Dean noticed the book on the passenger seat.   A Brief History of Time.  Stephen Hawking.  Holy shit, this kid was smart. 

"Uh, I have a broken taillight and was hoping you could help me find something to fix it," Dean said.

Ben got out of the driver's seat and stood up.  His empty Coke can fell to the ground.  He was taller than Dean.  Dean hadn't expected that.  His slightly long hair hung down into his green eyes and he pushed it back with his hand.  _'Exactly the way Sam does,'_ Dean thought, and with a flash of clarity Dean realized that here, in this salvage yard, he was face-to-face with someone who appeared to be a perfect mix of himself, Sam, and Bobby.  Bobby wasn't related by blood, but really, Ben had to be the only 19-year-old he'd seen recently reading an honest-to-God book instead of going around with his eyes glued to some electronic device.  That was pure Bobby.

Dean realized that Ben was looking at him funny.  "Is there something wrong?" Dean asked.

"I've seen you before," Ben said.  "I just can't figure out where." 

Dean flinched internally.  He thought that if Lisa hadn't remembered him, Ben wouldn't either.  He was caught off guard for the second time in as many minutes.

"You don't look familiar to me," Dean lied.  Well, it wasn't a total lie.  In fact he couldn't believe how different Ben looked from the last time he had seen him.  Back then he was only 12.  Now he was an adult.

"I think there's a '67 Bel Air over there....that will have the taillight you're looking for," said Ben as he headed down a row of old Chevys.  

Dean let Ben get several yards ahead of him, and before he followed, he bent down and picked up the empty Coke can, slipping it into a plastic bag before tossing it into his duffle in the back seat of the Impala through the open rear window.

Ben found the car he was looking for and pulled a screwdriver out of his back pocket.  He removed the taillight as if he had been working on cars his entire life.  Dean smiled to himself.  "Thanks man," Dean said.

"No problem," responded Ben.  "Can I take this up to the office for you?" he asked.

"Nah, that's okay," said Dean.  "Thanks for your help," he said and stuck out his hand.

 _'That's odd,’_ thought Ben, _'why does he want to shake my hand?  It was just one stupid taillight.'_ But he responded, reaching for Dean's hand.  The handshake was surprisingly firm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ben watched his customer walk towards the office and he turned to head back to his Mustang for the last few minutes of his lunch break.  Why the hell did that guy look so familiar to him?  He had out-of-state plates, so he wasn't from around here.  He couldn't figure it out.  He got back into his car and started to turn his attention back to his half-eaten cheeseburger when suddenly it hit him like a bolt.  He heard the Impala's motor rumble to life in the parking lot next to the office.  He couldn't explain why he felt such a sudden feeling of urgency, but he leapt out of his driver's seat and ran towards the sound of the engine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean had just put the Impala into gear; his foot hovered over the gas.  He jumped at the sound of someone banging on sheet metal.  Ben was standing next to his window pounding on the roof.  He rolled down the window and before he could ask what he wanted, Ben practically yelled, "You're the guy!"

"I'm what guy?" Dean asked with reservation.

"You're the guy from the hospital," Ben insisted.  Dean's heart felt like it might stop.  It had obviously been a very bad idea to come out here.

"I'm sorry?" Dean was unsure how he'd get out of this one.

"Seven years ago," Ben continued, "my mom and I were in a car accident.  She almost died.  You were the one who hit us; you stopped by her hospital room to say you were sorry."

"That was you?" Dean tried with every ounce of strength to sound convincing.  "Man, you were just a kid then!"

"Yeah, it was a long time ago," Ben agreed.

"You were at least a foot and half shorter than you are now," Dean tried to make casual conversation.

Ben's face clouded over slightly, "How could you know that?" he asked..."I was sitting down when you stopped at mom's room to apologize."

It was driven home to Dean how observant Ben was.  He had always been that way.  Dean realized he could probably never be careful enough not to slip up around him.

"Well, I mean, of course you grew a lot since then," Dean tried to backpedal.  Ben seemed to relax a bit and the suspicious look left his face.  "I never thought I'd have the chance to check in on you again," Dean said.  That part was true.  "How have you and your mom been?"

"That accident really messed my mom up," Ben said.  He had no idea why he felt the need to tell this guy just how bad it had been.  "I mean, she was okay physically after that puncture wound she got healed...I still can't figure out what the hell there was in the car that could have caused that..." Ben trailed off, then he realized Dean was waiting to hear the rest and continued.  "But it's like her head wasn't right.  She stopped working.  She could barely get out of bed.  Doctors told her it was depression and she was treated for that, but it took years before she started to seem like the person she was before the accident.  It was weird," Ben continued, "she just said she felt like something was missing."

Dean didn't want to hear these details.  They tore him up inside.  As always, he had screwed up the life of someone he loved.  But he couldn't stop listening.  He felt he had to hear how bad it had been.  HE had caused this.  He should suffer.

Ben had been leaning on the Impala's driver side door.  Dean grabbed his arm and looked into his eyes, which startled Ben for a moment.  "I can't tell you how incredibly sorry I am that you and your mom had to go through that.  I am so sorry that I did that to you."  Ben was taken aback by Dean's intensity.

"Uh, well, thanks," Ben stammered.  "I think she's doing much better now."

"You 'think'?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, I don't see her that often.  We kind of have different ideas about, well, about everything," Ben admitted.

Dean remembered what it was like when Sam and his dad didn't see eye-to-eye.  It was World War III.  He could imagine the fights between smart, observant Ben and strong-willed Lisa.  In this way, Ben was no different from any other teenager.

"How have YOU been?," asked Dean, "Were you okay after the accident?"

"Yeah, I was really fine." answered Ben.  "I didn't get hurt at all.  There was one strange thing though."

 _'Strange?’_ thought Dean.  He really hadn't wanted any of the shitload of 'strange' from his own life infiltrating the lives of Lisa and Ben; not after he left.  Not after he tried to let them go.  "What do you mean 'strange'?" he asked.

"Well, maybe it's because mom was so messed up, but after the accident, I just didn't want to be home anymore.  Something was missing.  I knew it was our home, but it didn't feel like home."  Ben looked at the ground, "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, you must think I'm nuts".

Dean pulse quickened a bit.

"I don't think you're nuts," Dean said.  "When serious shit like that happens, you never know how you’re going to take it."  He wasn't quite sure what to say.  "I'm just sorry you had to go through that."  He meant those words down to his core.

"Thanks, man," Ben replied, suddenly, oddly, not wanting this conversation to end.  Dean sensed his awkwardness.

"Hey," said Dean, "I know I can never make it up to you, but can I come by after work and we can grab a beer?"  This wasn't about wanting to hang out with Ben, even though he very much wanted to hang out with Ben.  He knew something had to be done.

"Well, they might not serve me," said Ben.

"Why not?" asked Dean.

"I lost my fake ID..." Ben admitted sheepishly.

"Oh, right," said Dean, "screw that; I'll bring the beer."

Ben smiled slightly.  He had no idea why he wanted to agree to this...to share a drink with the guy who almost killed his mom.  "Sure," he said.  "I'm done around 6:00."

"Alright kid, see you then," said Dean as he put the Impala in drive.  He saw Ben giving him a wave when he checked his rearview mirror.

Dean knew he was lucky that Ben and Lisa weren't talking right now.  But he also knew what he had to do. 

He silently sent up a call to Cas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
13.

After telling Lisa that he had to go meet up with Garth, and feeling horrible about lying to her, Dean drove back into the salvage yard as the setting sun washed the car carcasses in a golden fall light. 

No wonder Ben liked it here.  Dean thought the place was practically perfect...between the old cars and the way any salvage yard reminded him of Bobby, Dean could have gladly worked there if he had been lucky enough to have had a normal life. 

No such luck. 

Ben was locking up the office and walked easily over to the Impala.  Dean smacked the top of the old green cooler in the back seat indicating he was all set. 

"I'll just pull Mary into the garage bay and we're outta here," Ben said..."I don't like to leave her out."

 _'Mary?’_ thought Dean.  No way could that be a coincidence.

Moments later Ben was sliding into the Impala's passenger seat.  "Dude, this is such a sweet ride," he couldn't help but gush a bit. 

"She sure is," Dean replied.  Having Ben over there, somewhat folded up in the passenger seat reminded Dean of Sam.  But Ben appreciated the Impala, _'It's like Sam, but with taste,’_ Dean thought, smiling to himself.

Still, he wondered where Sam was and how Sam was doing.

"So, where to?" Dean asked Ben.

"Let's head up the road," said Ben, "There's an old railroad bridge up there."

Dean wanted to show off a bit, so he revved the engine and roared out of the salvage yard parking lot, squealing the tires around the turn.  Ben let out a whoop.  Clearly, he was enjoying this.  They drove into the dusk, AC/DC blaring, windows down.

Dean's phone rang.  _'Not now,'_ thought Dean.  He checked to see who it was...caller ID said "El Camino''.  Dean gave Ben an apologetic look, but Ben waved his hand to let him know it was no big deal.

"Hey Garth," Dean answered the phone, "What's up with y…"  Dean stopped suddenly when he heard a gunshot on the other end of the phone.

"Garth!?" Dean yelled urgently into the phone.

"Dean!" yelled Garth.  Even though he was yelling, Garth sounded far away, his voice slightly faint, then the phone went silent.

Dean swerved to the side of the road.  "Shit man, what are you..." Ben started to ask.  Dean held up is hand, motioning for silence and got it.

Dean checked the GPS on his phone for Garth's location.  "Do you know where Woodlawn Cemetery is?" Dean asked Ben.  He could follow the GPS, but he needed to get there as quickly as possible and Ben was a local.

"Sure," said Ben, who suddenly wasn't sure about anything.  Why would this guy want to go there? "Just take a right up here and..." Ben was thrown back into his seat as Dean hit the gas and took off "....go about eight miles," Ben finished; looking incredulously at Dean who was now roaring down the road at full speed.  No wonder this guy almost killed him and his mom.  He drove like a maniac.  Ben was seriously wondering if he'd made a huge mistake getting into this guy's car in the first place. "Um," asked Ben cautiously, "why are we going to Woodlawn Cemetery?"

"My partner's in trouble," said Dean, staring straight ahead and never taking his eyes off the road.  He was seriously regretting the fact that Ben was sitting next to him and now he was taking him into Lord-knows-what situation.

"Partner?" asked Ben.  "Are you a cop?"

"Sort of," replied Dean.  "Private investigator."  It was easier to lie to Ben than Lisa.

"You can just let me off at the side of the road and I can walk back," Ben offered.  He was definitely nervous.

"No time," replied Dean flatly.  "Sorry kid, but you're going to have to come along for the ride.  Just keep your head down and do what I say."

Ben nodded silently and held on as Dean took a corner at 50 miles per hour.

 

 

 

 

 

14.

The Impala skidded to a stop in front of Woodlawn's iron gates.  It was almost dark and the golden light of sunset had turned to a cold blue cast over everything.  Dean cut the engine but kept the headlights on.  He saw a figure staggering towards the car.  It wasn't Garth.

Dean stared straight ahead, never taking his eyes off the creature standing at edge of the circle of his headlights and moving closer.

"Ben," he said quietly, "don't make any fast moves.  There's a pistol in the glove box.  Get it out.  Now.  Don’t look down.”

Ben, eyes straight ahead, slowly reached down and unlatched the glove box.  He felt around until he found the cool grip of the pistol which he slowly pulled out.  A piece of paper fluttered to the floor, but he didn't notice. 

"You see that thing up there?" asked Dean.

"Thing?" asked Ben, confused.  "You mean that guy?"  Ben squinted to get a better look.

"Yeah; that guy," said Dean...sure, let Ben think it was just a guy.  "Keep the gun pointed at him and don't look away.  Do you know how to shoot?" he asked.  He had tried to keep guns out of Ben's hands for as long as he could remember, but now he hoped Ben had at least fired a pistol sometime during the last seven years.

"My friends and I used to go target shoot cans off the fence," Ben responded, looking at Dean.

"I said don't look away!" yelled Dean.  Ben flinched and quickly trained his gaze back on the staggering figure.  "Sorry," said Dean.  "This is just important.  I need to find my partner," he explained as he opened the driver's door.

"You're not leaving?!" said Ben incredulously.

"I have to," said Dean.  "Keep your gun on that guy and if I can't stop him, you have to fire.  Can you do that?" asked Dean.

"Yes, okay," said Ben.  Suddenly calm in spite of the adrenaline.  He took off the safety, keeping his eyes trained on the guy lurching towards the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean quickly moved from the Impala to the sheltering trunk of a wide oak tree.  He hadn't been sure what he was up against, but now that he was out of the car, he smelled that smell and he knew.  It was a renevant.  _'Shit, Garth,'_ he thought, _'how the hell did you get mixed up with this vengeful bastard?'_ Garth was nowhere to be seen or heard.

Dean's quick movement away from the car had the desired effect and the renevant caught sight of him.

Though Dean remained hidden behind the tree, he could tell by the intensifying smell and the sound of dragging shoes that it was getting closer.  His instinct alone told him that it was maybe only about 30 feet away now. 

Good thing he had good instincts. 

He stepped out from behind the tree and fired a precise headshot.  The monster collapsed as if someone had pulled the pins from his already-loose joints.  It's rotting flesh seemed to pool and spread out on the ground as it ceased moving.  Dean knew he had a limited amount of time.  He had to behead the thing and burn it in order to keep it from rising again.  But he was worried about Garth.  He decided to take a chance that the pool of decaying flesh would still be there when he got back.  He backed towards the Impala, keeping his eyes on the motionless monster the whole way.

"You still with me?" he asked Ben over his shoulder.

Ben was still holding the pistol pointed towards the spot where Dean had dropped the renevant.

"Yeah, uh, I'm okay...what the fuck is that smell?” Ben asked.  "It's getting so dark, I couldn't see the guy.  You fucking shot him!" Ben said as his temporary calm-in-a-crisis demeanor disappeared.

"He was coming at me," Dean said, defending his actions.  "I had no choice."

"Well we need to call the cops," said Ben, taking out his phone.  "We have to..."

"No!" said Dean calmly but forcefully.  "Ben, put the phone away."

How had he known he had taken out his phone?  He wasn't even looking at him. "But..." started Ben

"We have to find my partner first and make sure he's okay," Dean cut him off.

Ben didn't know if he should call the cops anyway, or take off running just to get the hell out of there, but somehow he found Dean's commanding tone comforting.  None of this night was making sense, but if this guy's partner was in trouble, he might need some help.

"Okay, where do we start?" asked Ben.

Dean finally turned to look at him.  Ben swore he looked, well, kind of proud. 

"You've been here before, I take it?" asked Dean.

"Sure," said Ben, "my friends and I brought our girlfriends up here to scare them plenty of times." He said.

 _'Been there, done that,'_ thought Dean.  "Do you know if there's a crypt...maybe an old one that's sort of falling in?"

 _'That's an odd question,'_ thought Ben.  "Yeah; um, just up over the hill and to the right," he directed as he got out of the car and went to set the pistol on the seat.

"Better keep that with you," said Dean.

Ben's instinct was that this guy had no plans to harm him, as crazy as this night had been so far.  If he HAD wanted to harm him, no way he'd suggest he carry a gun of his own....

Ben went to stick it in his waistband.

"For God's sake put the safety back on first!" admonished Dean.

"Oh, yeah, uh, sorry," stammered Ben.

Dean rolled his eyes to himself in the darkness; no way was he going to be in any way responsible for Ben shooting his own dick off.  Dean grabbed a flashlight out of his bag in the trunk and headed off in the direction Ben indicated.

"What about?..." Ben trailed off as he looked in the direction where the renevant had fallen.

"We'll deal with that later," said Dean.

Ben followed.  Glad to get away from the smell. _‘There must be a dead deer at the edge of the woods or something,'_ he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They reached the crypt and, just as Dean thought, it was in an older and more neglected area of the cemetery and the dome of the structure was starting to collapse.  Renevants were vengeful and determined, but they weren't particularly physically strong and they couldn't just break their way out of a tomb.  They couldn't just come back to life on their own either.  Not without help.

Dean began looking through the tall grass and jumble of masonry from the crumbling tomb with his flashlight.  At the very back corner of the structure he caught a flash of pale skin.  He sprinted towards it.

"Garth...Garth...are you okay?" asked Dean as he shook Garth who was pale.  But Garth was always pale....

Dean checked his pulse.  Garth was breathing but not waking up.  It was then that Dean saw a large gash on Garth's forehead.  The blood was already drying.

Ben caught up.  "This is your partner?"  Ben didn't know quite what to make of this pale, skinny guy.  It wasn't what he had expected to find.

"Yeah, it's him," said Dean with concern.  "Can you help me get him back to the car?"

"Sure," responded Ben.

They half-carried, half-dragged Garth's minimal but dead weight back to the Impala.  Dean made sure to give the puddle of what was left of the renevant a wide berth.  Damn, he wished Sam were here to help him clean up this mess.  How was he going to take care of this and not let Ben know what was really going on?

He'd have to come back and deal with the undead corpse later.  He had to get Garth back to the motel and get Ben the hell out of here before he had a chance to get a better look at what Dean had shot.  Good thing it was pitch dark now.

Ben shot Dean a look, "But what about..." he gestured towards the body in the road. 

"I'll call the cops" lied Dean.  "They know I'm in town working a case and I'll head down to the station once we get Garth settled and help them clear this whole thing up."

That sounded like the biggest lie ever to Ben.  But a second later Dean was on his phone talking to the cops and telling them there had been an "incident" and he'd be at the station as soon as he could get there.

Of course Dean was talking to a dead line.

 

 


	3. HOME (part 1) chapters 15 - 18

 

  
  
15.

Dean swung the Impala into the motel parking lot.

"I thought we were going to the hospital," questioned Ben.

"I'm going to take a look at him here first," said Dean. "I'm ex-military; I was a medic in Iraq back in '06". _'What the hell,'_ thought Dean, _'might as well go all the way if I'm going to lie.’_

Ben looked extremely uncertain, but helped Dean get Garth inside.  Luckily, the evening had taken its toll on Garth and he was extremely groggy, though Dean had asked Ben to help keep him barely awake in case he had a concussion.

When Garth was stretched out on the motel bed, Dean asked Ben to help him by getting some medical supplies out of the car.  "There's a first aid kit under the passenger seat...here's the key."  Dean tossed Ben the keys to his baby.

Ben wondered if maybe he should take those keys and then take the Impala and drive back to the salvage yard.  This night was definitely weird, but his second thought was that it was more excitement than he'd had in a long time.  He forgot about getting the hell out of there for at least the 5th time that night and went to check under the passenger seat for the first aid kit as Dean had asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ben got back to the car and opened the door to check under the seat.  He glanced down at the floorboard and in the neon light from the motel sign, he saw a piece of paper.  Actually, it wasn't a piece of paper, it was a photo lying there face-down.  He reached down and flipped it over.  In that second, everything changed. 

Here was this guy, "Dean" who caused the accident that almost killed his mom back when he was 12.  Could have killed him too.  And now he was looking at a photo of the three of them.  Dean, his mom, and him.  Only he was around 10 years old. 

This was impossible. 

Was this guy some sort of weird stalker who had Photoshopped this together?  Frankly, thought Ben, he didn't seem that tech-savvy to be able to pull something like that off.  What the hell was this?

Dean appeared from behind the motel sign, "What's taking so long?!" he demanded. Ben jumped.  Dean noticed something had changed with Ben immediately.  "What's wrong?" he asked Ben.  "Are you okay?  What happened?"

Ben forgot about Garth in the motel room, needing assistance, and his mission to retrieve the first aid kit.

Ben closed the distance between himself and Dean and defiantly shoved the photo at him, inches from his face.  "What the fuck is this?!"  He was so angry, he didn't know what he was going to say next.  "You almost killed me and mom and now you just re-appear...how the hell do you have a photo of us together where I'm ten years old?????"

"Calm down, kid," Dean said.

"Don't you dare fucking call me 'kid'," Ben glared at Dean.

Dean held up his hands as if he was surrendering.  "I know I have no right to ask you to trust me, but just let me get something out of the trunk and I'll explain everything."

A questioning look flashed across Ben's otherwise furious expression.

Dean moved quickly before Ben could say anything else.  As he opened the trunk so Ben couldn't see him, Cas appeared beside the car, right behind Ben; almost on top of him, in fact.  Ben caught sight of Cas out of the corner of his eye and spun around stammering, "who the fuck are you and how did you get..." but he barely had time for fear as Cas reached out with lightening speed and touched Ben on the forehead. 

Ben collapsed to the ground.

Dean came running from behind the car, "What the hell, Cas???  You were supposed to wait for my signal!" Dean chastised him.

"You said the boy had to remember," Cas replied matter-of-factly.  "I thought you would appreciate the element of surprise."

"I thought I might have a chance to explain a little first, Cas!" Dean raised his voice.  "And why'd you knock him out?" Dean asked, glancing over at Ben, still slumped on the ground next to the car.

"Restoring someone's memory is not an easy thing, Dean...Ben could have some side effects," Cas explained.

"Side effects???  Jesus Cas, why didn't you tell me that before you zapped him?" Dean implored.

"You never asked," replied Cas.

Ben started to stir groggily on the ground.  He began to open his eyes and put his hand to his forehead, "Shit, my head is killing me, what the hell..." Ben opened his eyes fully and looked up, stunned, at who he saw standing over him.  He jumped up so fast that his vision swam, but he was focused on the one person he thought he'd never see again no matter how badly he wanted to.

"DEAN!" he yelled and practically lunged at Dean, hugging him so tight, Dean almost had the wind knocked out of him.  Dean hadn't known what to expect, but this sure wasn't it. 

For a second, Ben was 12 again.  His mind was foggy.  He wasn't sure how he got here or why Dean was suddenly in front of him, but he did the first thing that came to mind; threw his arms around the only man that had ever been a father to him.

Dean was slightly in shock but he gingerly put his arms around Ben.

As soon as Dean's arms closed around Ben, Ben pushed back, shoving Dean a good four feet and as Ben tried to stand on his own, swaying slightly, he caught sight of Cas behind him.  "Who the fuck is that and what the hell am I doing here?" Ben demanded.

Dean put both hands up in front of him, put on his best "dad" voice, and said, "Ben, this is Cas."

"Hello Ben" said Cas with extreme sincerity.  He was rewarded with an extremely skeptical look from Ben.  Ben turned back to Dean.

"Ben, do you remember -" Dean began.

Ben cut him off, "I fucking remember everything."

Cas looked down at the ground before slowly walking towards the motel room, leaving Dean and Ben in a staring contest, the  flickering "Courtesy" motel sign bathing them in neon light.

"Get in the car," ordered Dean.  "We need to talk."

"You don't get to fucking tell me what to do," spat Ben.

"Get in the car, Ben!" it came out more forcefully than Dean intended.  God he sounded like his dad.  Shit.

Ben stormed over to the passenger side, folded himself in, and slammed the door.  The driver's door closed behind Dean seconds later.

Ben looked suspiciously at Dean and said.  "So if you're here, then Sam must be..."

"No, no, Sam's fine," responded Dean.  "We're just working different jobs right now."  Dean thought it was kind of sweet for Ben to ask about Sam.

Ben made a dismissive noise.  "Oh, well, I figured Sam must be dead if you were here because you left us for Sam once before.  I didn't think you'd find your way back to your second-class family unless Sam was gone."

Ouch. 

"Ben, it's complicated," started Dean, "you don't have a brother; you don't know what it's like."

"Oh, that's right," responded Ben.  "I don't know what it's like to have a brother, or a father for that matter.  You know, I had a father once, but he decided we weren't good enough for him and he took off," Ben glared at Dean with naked anger.

Okay, that fucking hurt.  The memories of the time Dean spent being a father to Ben were some of the best memories of his life.

Dean sighed.  "Look, Ben, just listen for one Goddamn minute."  Dean looked over at him.  Ben stared straight ahead.  No response.

"Please," Dean asked again.  Quietly this time.

Ben turned and met Dean's gaze with all of his walls up.

"Okay," Dean started again.  "If you remember everything, then you remember how you and your mom ended up in the hospital."

"The demon, yeah, it's kind of hard to forget.  In fact I thought I'd never forget it, only now it seems like I haven't thought about it in years.  What the fuck, Dean?"  Ben was starting to sound more confused than irate. 

"I know this hard to understand," continued Dean, "You know that demon possessed your mom because it was trying to get to me.  Because of my job."

"Yeah, I know." said Ben.

"Well it's not only demons and monsters that follow me home.  Sometimes angels follow me home too."  Dean continued.  Ben wrinkled his brow, looking so much like Sam that Dean had to blink a few times.  Dean continued, "Cas...well, his name's Castiel.  He's an angel.  After your mom almost died, I asked Cas to wipe your memories.  I was sure it was the only way to keep you safe.  If you didn't know who I was, then the demons couldn't use you and your mom against me."

"Angels?" Ben asked incredulously.  As if on cue, a bright light shone from the motel room window.  Garth would be feeling a lot better soon.

"Yeah," snorted Dean, "angels, if you can believe it.  Most of them are dicks, but Cas is a good guy."

Ben looked out the window.  "Fuck, Dean; do you have ANY idea what that did to us?  Me and mom, we almost didn't make it.  She was so depressed, well, I had to hide the hunting rifle for years," he said quietly, looking down at the old photograph which he realized was still clenched in his hand.

Dean put his hand on Ben's arm.  Ben didn't pull away.  Okay.

"Ben," Dean said, trying incredibly hard to keep his voice steady, "all I ever brought into your home was pain.  Me being there only put you and your mom in danger and I couldn't risk that."

"Our," said Ben.

"What?" asked Dean, suddenly completely lost.

"Our home,"  Ben said quietly.  He looked at Dean, "It was OUR home, dammit," Ben's eyes were, was Dean seeing this right?  Ben's eyes were starting to water. "You, me, mom, we were a family and that was all I ever wanted."  Ben continued, "You treated me like I..."  Ben choked a bit.

Dean waited in silence for once in his life.

"You treated me like I was important...like I was...yours."  The last bit was barely audible, but Dean heard it.  Now Dean was fighting to control his emotions. 

Dean grabbed Ben and pulled him close.  Ben's long arms wrapped around Dean and they held on, trying to make up for all the confusion, the loneliness, and the misplaced good intentions.  "I never thought of you as anything other than mine.  You gotta know that," Dean said as he felt Ben squeeze harder; so hard that Dean could hardly breathe.

Ben opened his eyes and started as he saw Cas standing right up against the driver's window.  Dean whipped his head around to see what had startled him and let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw it was only Cas.

Dean rolled down the driver's window, embarrassed to find his head at crotch-level with Cas.  "Dammit Cas; TIMING!"

Dean turned his head away to avoid staring right at Cas' crotch.  Cas didn't bend down but just stood there talking straight ahead.

"I healed your friend in the motel room," Cas reported, emotionless.  "He's sleeping now.  He will be fine."

"Uh, Cas?" said Dean.

"Yes?" asked Cas, still facing forward and talking over the roof of the Impala.

"Can you bend down so I can actually see you when you're talking to me?" asked Dean.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Cas, bending at the waist and meeting Dean's gaze, not blinking.

"Damn, Cas, you're intense," commented Dean who received only a confused look from Cas.

"Nevermind," Dean said.

"Dean?" asked Cas.

"Yes, Cas, what is it?" Dean replied with as much patience as he could force.

"The other hunter is sleeping so that you and Ben may finish your conversation."

 _'Well maybe Cas isn't as socially incompetent as I thought,’_ thought Dean.

Dean's face softened.  "Thanks Cas.  For everything.” He meant it.

"I'm here if you need to call on me," Cas replied before there was a rustle of feathers and he was gone.

Ben could barely believe what he had just seen.  Even though he was now able to remember just how much he HAD seen in his time with Dean over the years, he’d never seen anything like that.

"That dude was weird," said Ben.

Dean couldn't help but laugh.  "You're not wrong," Dean replied.  "But he's saved my ass more times than I can count."

Ben got quiet again.  "You okay?" asked Dean.

"Jesus Christ.  It's a lot to take in, man," Ben replied.

"I know, and I'm sorry," said Dean.

"So why'd you come back?" asked Ben.

No lies.

"I didn't know you and your mom were living here.  I ran into her in a bar the other night...you were there with her, arguing...but I swear to God I had no idea it was you; you look so different now, it was dark in there...I didn't even know she was your mom." 

"So, you were just in town working a case and you ran into us?" Ben asked skeptically.

"Swear to God," replied Dean. 

"You didn't come back for us?"  Ben asked, anger rising again.

"Ben I have thought of you and your mom every fucking day for seven fucking years.  I was sure you were safer without me."  Dean didn't like where this was going.

"We weren't safer, okay?!" the words burst out of Ben.  "Maybe there weren't demons chasing us, but my mom was so unsafe I was nervous to even have kitchen knives in the house and I, well I..." Ben trailed off.

"You what?" pressed Dean.

"I drank, okay?!  I smoked, I did whatever I could to fill this Goddamn hole.  This fucking hole that just opened up all of a sudden for no reason...the day you made us forget you."  Ben finished, deflated.

"Look, Ben," said Dean.  "I was wrong, okay?  You and your mom, I haven't been okay without you either and I should have figured out another way.  I thought I had no other choice."

"Well fuck you," said Ben.

"I deserve that," acknowledged Dean.

Silence fell over the car for what seemed like minutes.

"Dean?" said Ben.

"Yeah?" responded Dean.

"Don't ever fucking do that again, okay?  Don't decide we don't need you.  You don't get to decide that for me."  Ben stared straight ahead.

Dean could hardly speak.  "Deal," he said quietly.

"So you've been with mom already?" Ben asked.  Dean wondered if it was that obvious. 

"Yeah, I have been.  For the past three days.”   Honesty.  He braced for whatever Ben was going to say next.

"Does she, does she remember?" asked Ben.

"No," said Dean, "not yet."

Ben thought about that quietly for a minute.

"You two were meant to be, you know?" said Ben.  "Mom wasn't Mom without you."  It sounded almost like forgiveness.

"Thank you," was all Dean could say.

"I'm still pissed," said Ben.

"I know," said Dean.

"Where do we go from here?" asked Ben.

Fuck! 

"Shit!" exclaimed Dean, "I've gotta get back to that cemetery."

"That wasn't a drunk guy you shot, was it?" asked Ben.

"Nope." confirmed Dean.

"Okay, let's go," said Ben.

Dean turned and just stared at Ben.

"What the fuck?  Why are you looking at me like that?" asked Ben.

"After all this fucked-up shit I just laid on you, you're all 'let's go'?  Just like that?" asked Dean, incredulously.

"Yeah," said Ben.  "I need to work through my anger and you need my help with some kind of fucking monster so let's go.  And this silence is getting uncomfortable dude; you got any Zepplin in that box of ancient tapes?"

Dean had always felt that Ben was his kid.

 

 

 

 

  
  
16.

Dean and Ben were back at the cemetery 15 minutes later.  Dean drove slowly through the iron gates.  The "closes at sundown" sign was rusted and hanging by one corner on the fence.  No one took the time to lock the gate at night anymore.

Dean pulled just past the big oak tree.  "I dropped it right here," he said.  But there was no body, no pile of goo on the ground.

"Are you sure it was here; not further up?" asked Ben.

"No, no, it was right here, I know it," said Dean.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck...he'd waited too long.

"Where is it?" asked Ben.  "Do you think the police came?"

Dean gave him a “were you born yesterday?” look.

"You never called the cops, did you?" asked Ben, rolling his eyes.

Dean smiled.

"We've got to go look for it," said Ben.

"What?!  NO!  No way; I'm going to go look for it and you're going to stay here," Dean commanded.

"No," said Ben, matter-of-factly.

"Ben, don't make me - " started Dean.

"Don't make you what?" said Ben sarcastically.

Fuck, this was like teenage Sam all over again.

"I'm 19 man.  And, I'm taller than you," Ben added, just to twist the knife.

"Yeah, but you're not a hunter," pointed out Dean. "And I don't want you to be a hunter, so you're staying here."

With that, Ben took the pistol back out of the glove box and stepped out of the car.

"Ben, what the fuck..." started Dean who was suddenly moving as fast as he could trying to get out of the car himself and catch up with Ben who was headed towards the dilapidated crypt where they had found Garth.  Goddamn headstrong teenagers.  Dean fumbled with his duffle bag as he took off after Ben.

"Ben, don't be stupid..." said Dean as he tried to close the distance between them.  Ben had some long legs.

Ben wheeled around to face Dean, "Hey," he said, voice raised, "remember, you don't get to make decisions for me -"

Ben stopped when he saw Dean's expression change completely.  Dean wasn't coming towards him anymore.  Dean wasn't trying to catch up.

"Dean?" asked Ben with confusion.

"Ben, when I say 'hit the ground', you'd better hit the ground."  Dean was looking past Ben.

"Don't turn around," continued Dean.  His words were measured and his voice was low.  He stood frozen in place.

All the cockiness felt like it left Ben in one giant rush.  He nodded silently, then the wind direction changed and he smelled the smell.  That was followed by a sickening gurgling sound somewhere behind him.  Somewhere behind him but way too close to him.  Ben gulped and didn't move, staring at Dean.

Renevants followed movement.  Dean silently willed Ben to hold as still as possible.  He noticed Ben twitch slightly.  He looked like he was going to throw up.  Dean had to admit that he was one second away from hurling himself.  The smell was overwhelming.

Ben heard the gurgling behind him getting louder.  He knew he was either going to throw up or pass out.

"Hit the ground!" said Dean.  Ben complied immediately just as a slimy arm with loose, hanging ribbons of flesh grabbed at the air where he had just been standing.  In one smooth movement, Dean drew the machete out of his duffle and swung it with incomparable precision at the thing behind Ben.  Ben heard a wet noise and then half a head, most of it blown away by the bullet Dean put into it earlier that night, dropped right next to him on the ground as near-liquid black brain matter spilled out like rotten scrambled eggs escaping from a bowl.

A louder sound like a bucket full of pumpkin guts hitting the ground came down on Ben's other side. Ben scrambled up on his knees just in time to violently vomit onto the dirt in front of him.

Dean was at Ben's side faster than Ben knew it was possible for another human being to move.  He grabbed Ben's arm and hauled him up out of the pool of vomit and guts and decay.  Ben clung to him as if his life depended on it.

Ben looked at Dean sheepishly.  "I guess I have a lot to learn," he said.  Dean kept a tight grip on him. "You did great, kid," he said.  Ben smiled weakly.  Dean had no intention of letting Ben "learn" anything more, but the kid was shaken and this was not the time for that particular can of worms.  "Let's get you back to the car.  I'll take care of this," said Dean, gesturing to the pile of indescribably disgusting parts on the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When the head was done burning in a small pit and the renevant's body was nothing but a lime-dissolved spot on the ground, Dean returned to the car to find Ben, a bit shaky, but mostly okay.

"You gonna be alright?" asked Dean.

Ben nodded, eyes closed.

"I'm gonna take you home," said Dean.

Ben put his hand on Dean's arm, "Not yet, okay?"  He turned his head and opened his eyes to look at Dean.  "Can I go back to the motel with you?  There's no one waiting for me at home and, well, I just don't think I want to sit there alone and think about things...yet."

"Yeah, sure." said Dean, turning the Impala in the direction of the motel.  The adrenaline had drained out of him as he watched the renevant's head burn.  He couldn't wait to lie down.

 

 

 

17.

Ben and Dean finally had their beer in the motel room as Garth continued sleeping.  They talked a little more in spite of how exhausted they both were.  Ben see-sawed between anger and love and Dean knew it was going to be that way for awhile.  He could take it.  Actually, he deserved a lot worse than that.  He couldn't describe how good it felt to be trying to re-connect with Ben.  Even if "trying" was the best he ever got, he'd take it.  He had always felt a bond with Ben and giving that up for what he had convinced himself was Ben's own good had almost killed him.  Dean felt like he was getting a second chance with someone who had died and been resurrected because that's how Dean had made himself think of Ben for the past seven years; as dead.  And as a result of that, Dean knew he hadn't been fully living during that time either. 

Ben revealed that he and Lisa weren't really on good terms.  Dean waved a hand to stop him and Ben said, "oh; she already told you that, huh?"

"She wants to see you happy," said Dean.

"I know," said Ben, sighing heavily.  "I'm just trying to figure everything out and she just gets so pushy sometimes...you know?  She latches onto something and won't let go."

Dean smiled to himself.  He was counting on it.

"Look," said Dean, "your mom doesn't know I'm anything more than a guy she met in a bar the other night..."

"So how long are you going to lie to her?" asked Ben.  This kid didn't beat around the bush.

"Not long," confirmed Dean.  He was scared shitless of how Lisa would react once she knew the whole truth, but he also knew he could not keep this up.

"When then?" asked Ben.

"I'm not sure yet," replied Dean.  "I have to get this case that Garth and I are working on figured out, and I have to talk to her...and then, then I'll get Cas' help."

"You know she might tell you to get out and never come back, right?" said Ben, giving voice to Dean's current worst nightmare.

"Yeah, I know," replied Dean.  "But I can't lie to her anymore."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Ben and Dean caught his eye.  Ben looked somewhat proud.  Dean was sure he must be seeing things. 

"Don't worry," continued Ben, "she and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now.  I won't fuck this up for you.  Even though I should," he groused.

Dean shot him a look.

"I'm not going to say anything, dude," Ben reassured him.

"I know I don't deserve it, but thanks," replied Dean.

"Yeah, you're right, you don't deserve it," confirmed Ben.

Dean tried to stifle a yawn. 

"Getting tired, old man?" ask Ben with a slight smirk.

"Shut up," said Dean, but he smiled.  This teasing felt good.  Normal.  Like he was with Sam.  It felt like family.

"I guess I'd better ask you to drive me back to the salvage yard before you fall asleep," said Ben.

"Yeah, okay," said Dean, reaching for his keys.  He quickly left Garth a note and stood up, instantly realizing he was pretty much dead on his feet.

"Hey, Dean?" asked Ben as they were headed out to the Impala.

"Yeah, what?" Dean replied absentmindedly as he tried to find the keyhole on the Impala's door in the dark.

"It's really good to see you." Ben said quietly.

Dean looked up and across the roof over at Ben.  "You too," he smiled.  Ben smiled back.

 

 

 

18.

Dean slid into bed next to Lisa around 3:00 am.  She pressed herself sleepily up against him but didn't wake up completely and therefore didn't give him the third degree about where he'd been.  Dean was grateful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Garth woke up in the motel room with no idea how he got there.  He grabbed the note off the nightstand:

 It's dead.   
You're okay.   
Cas helped.   
  WTF?   
Call me.    
     D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean woke up alone in bed to the sound of the shower running and his cell phone ringing.  Damn cell phone.

"Hey bro," it was Garth sounding completely and totally fine and not like he'd almost had his head bashed in by a walking corpse just hours earlier.

"Hey," replied Dean as he turned to look at the clock and was not surprised to see that it was already close to noon.

"What happened, man?" asked Garth.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," replied Dean.  "Really, Garth, a renevant?  And nothing like waiting until the last second to give me a call!"

Dean was trying hard to keep his voice down and simultaneously trying to keep one ear on the sound of the running shower.  "What do you remember?" Dean asked.

"Man, I was trailing this demon and you know how they like to fuck with you," Garth began.  "It looked like it was headed to that salvage yard outside of town, you know?" Dean's blood ran a little colder.  "But then it veered off on a dirt road towards the cemetery and I followed.  I swear I saw the car pull off into the trees and I got out to track it, you know, on foot so I could get the drop on it," Dean rolled his eyes on the other end of the line, "when all of a sudden I smelled the rankest thing ever and I knew that couldn't be good so I called you.  I got off one shot in the direction of the stench, then I felt like my head was exploding and everything went black.  Next thing I knew, I woke up here."

"Damn demon must have re-animated that thing with a spell just for the hell of it," reasoned Dean.  "Just to slow you down."  Garth must have actually been onto something if the demon wanted to get him off his trail.

"So," Dean could almost hear the wheels turning in Garth's brain, "I killed a renevant, huh?  Sweet!" he Garth.

"No genius, I killed the renevant," Dean corrected him and then regretted it immediately because he could almost hear Garth's face fall over the phone.  "We dragged you back to the car and got you home so Cas could heal you."  Dean's eyes darted to the bathroom door as he heard the squeak of the shower turning off.

" 'We' who?" asked Garth, perplexed.

"Man, I gotta go," said Dean.  "I'll be over there in about an hour.  We'll talk."

"Dean, wait...what do you mean 'we'?" Dean could hear Garth’s persistent tone as he turned off his phone.

Lisa opened the bathroom door and walked out in only a towel, smiling in Dean's direction she said teasingly, "That better not have been you talking to your wife in the next town over."

"You caught me," teased Dean right back.  "I told her I met the smartest, hottest woman I've ever known and I'm never coming home."  He reached out and easily pulled Lisa to him as they fell onto the bed.

Lisa kissed him, slow and deep.  He should have told Garth it would be two hours.

Lisa pulled away and looked into Dean's eyes.  "I know we haven't known each other long enough to expect anything," she began, "but I gotta say I was a little worried about you last night.  You okay?"

"I'm okay," said Dean.  "Garth and I were working on the case and we got into a stakeout situation.  It went a lot later than I thought it would.  I'm sorry I didn't call," he finished. 

Lies lies lies. 

"You don't owe me an explanation," Lisa said, kind of embarrassed that she even expected a call from this guy she'd only known for a few days, "I just missed you last night," she finished.

"I missed you too," replied Dean.  That was the truth.  Dean lifted his head up to kiss her neck.  Minutes later the towel was off and she was opened wide for him, pressing her body down on top of his as she rode him hard.

 

 

 


	4. HOME (part 1) chapters 19 - 22

19.

Two hours later, Dean pushed open the motel room door to find Garth giving him a dirty look as he sat drumming his fingers on the table.

"Dude, you got a watch?" asked Garth.

"Sorry man," replied Dean, "Lisa and I..."

"Say no more," said Garth holding up a hand.  "I forgive you.  Just one thing though," he continued.

"What?" asked Dean.

"Spill it," said Garth. 

"Spill what?" asked Dean irritated, "Look man, I already told you you're not getting any details -"

"Not that," said Garth, cutting him off.  "I want to know what's going on with you.  I've never seen you like this over a woman before.  Usually you're all 'bros before hoes' and crap."

"Watch yourself," said Dean, glowering at Garth.

"I'm not calling Lisa a ho!" Garth defended himself, "You know what I mean...I've just never seen you like this and what did you mean 'we got you to the car' last night?  You didn't bring her with you, did you?"

"God no!" Dean's voice rose.

"So spill it," said Garth, patting the chair next to him.

Dean sighed and sat down.  He trusted Garth.  He did.  But he hadn't wanted to bring anyone else in on the most current fucked-up situation he'd gotten himself into...and he hadn't even talked to Sam yet...

"I thought I was coming over here to talk about the hunt.  See what you found last night."  Dean tried to change the subject.

"We will, just as soon as you spill it."  Garth wasn't going to be dissuaded.

No getting around this one.  Garth may not be the world's most deadly hunter, but he had nearly as much insight into people as Sam did.  He was not going to let Dean off the hook.

"Okay, look," started Dean as Garth leaned closer.

Half an hour later, Dean finished.  Lisa.  Ben.  Crowley.  Cas.  Sam coming back from the pit.  The demon that possessed Lisa and almost killed both her and Ben.  Garth stared at him rather slack-jawed. 

"You gonna close your mouth or are you trying to catch flies?" asked Dean with more than a little irritation.

Garth swallowed.  "Shit, man, how could you DO that???"

Great.  Dean had just told Garth about what might be one of the most painful things he'd ever barely lived through and Garth wanted to twist the knife a little?!  Dean pushed away from the table and stood up.

"Fuck you, Garth," spat Dean.  "I just laid it all out there for you and, well, it was about as fun to fucking re-tell it as it was to live it and I don't get a little fucking sympathy?!  I was trying to SAVE them for Christ's sake!"  Dean was on a roll and was just getting started, God, bringing it all up again hurt like a bitch.  He felt like a bandage had been ripped off and now he was just standing in front of Garth completely exposed and bleeding all over the place.  Dean wheeled around to tear into Garth a bit more but stopped when he saw Garth's eyes welling up.

Garth said, in a small voice, "I meant, how could you do that to yourself, Dean?  They loved you and you loved them.  Why the hell don't you ever think you deserve to have people love you?  It's not normal...I mean, humans aren't built to have to make decisions like the one you made."  Garth quickly wiped his eyes.

The anger drained out of Dean almost instantaneously.  Now it just hurt.

"Sorry," he mumbled, collapsing back down into the chair next to Garth.

Garth continued as if he had never even expected an apology, "You've been walking around with that for seven years?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah,” sighed Dean.  "I told Sam that if he ever mentioned Ben or Lisa again that that I'd break his nose.  I had to pretend they were dead.  It's the only way I could keep going."

Before Dean knew what the hell was happening, Garth was leaning over behind Dean's chair and had his arms around him giving him a bear hug.  Dean rolled his eyes and patted Garth's arm.  "Okay, uh, thanks, Garth."

Garth let Dean go and stood up, swallowing hard, trying to get it under control.

"What do we do now?" asked Garth.  "You want me to call Sa-"

"NO!" said Dean emphatically.  He meant to call Sam a hundred times since the night he met Lisa in the bar and something always got in the way.  In fact, he was slightly worried not only about how Sam was doing but about what the hell Sam would say about Dean getting right back into mess that he spent so many years trying to forget.  Dean was more than happy to tell most people to fuck off.  He didn't give a shit about what 99.99% of the people he met thought of him.  But Sam was different.  What Sam thought of him mattered.  A lot. 

Besides, Sam was supposed to be getting his head together up at the cabin.  The last thing he needed was to have to deal with Dean's problems. 

"Sam's taking a break and he needs one and I'm not going to put any of this shit on him," Dean said firmly.

"But you know he'd want to know," said Garth cautiously.

"I said 'no'," replied Dean.  "I'll talk to him, I will, but I have to figure out where this is going and you and I have a case to finish."

"Right, the case," said Garth.  He'd almost completely forgotten about the case.

There was a long silence in the room.

"So...." prodded Dean.

"So, what?" asked Garth.

"THE CASE Garth...tell me what you found!" said Dean, his patience just about gone.  "I swear to God I'm going to grow ovaries if we sit here talking about my problems any more.  Those weren't great memories and I'd really like to think about something else now."

"Sure, right, okay; yeah, you're right," said Garth.  "Just want you to know that I'm here if you ever want to talk about anything or need help in any way or - "

"Noted," said Dean curtly, cutting Garth off, though Garth could see that Dean was grateful that he wasn't the only one sitting in this crappy motel room who knew what he'd gone through for the past seven years.

"You didn't deserve any of this, Dean," finished Garth.

"Yeah, well, the universe seems to think otherwise," said Dean, sounding tired.  "Now can we PLEASE talk about the case?"

Garth told him about everything that happened after he stepped off Lisa's porch a couple days ago.

Garth had been trying to follow the omens.  The weather, the lightening, and he also did what he did best; talking to people around town.  Garth was so open, they just talked to him like they'd known him for years.  He asked about anyone new in town.  He asked about anyone who had started acting strangely.  He asked about the mysterious death that he had read about online that spurred him to call Dean in the first place and ask if he and Sam were up for a hunt.  Garth was used to working alone, but he had honestly kind of missed having anyone else around who understood what it was to be a hunter, so he had called Dean’s other, other cell.  (Garth had asked for both of them but only Dean showed up.  Still good to have one very capable hunter watching his back when, as Garth would say, "shit got real".) 

With all of Garth's questioning, he did get some solid information.  The mysterious death two weeks ago centered around a man who was discovered in car, parked down by the river, dead.  He looked as if he had been attacked by an animal inside his locked car.  The autopsy photos Garth had seen (the body had already been cremated) showed incredibly gruesome injuries; the man's entire front from neck to groin was shredded into ribbons with all internal organs exposed.  He bled out quickly, the coroner had noted.  _'No shit,'_ thought Garth. 

Also noted in the police report; the man had a semi-automatic pistol on the seat next to him, apparently untouched.  That, in addition to a sub-machine gun on the back seat and an automatic rifle on the back seat floorboard.  The car was still running when the body was found, but the side passenger window had been broken from the outside.  There were no prints of any kind (animal or human).   It looked as if the man had been trying to protect himself with all of the firearms around him.

"So, I started thinking," said Garth.

"Hellhounds," finished Dean.  "Damn, I hate hellhounds," he said under his breath.

"Correct-o-mundo," confirmed Garth. 

"So we might have some guy who made a demon deal 10 years ago," Dean thought out loud, "what can we do about any of that now?"

"There's more," continued Garth.  "I asked about anyone in town who had started acting different recently and didn't get any hits until one girl I was talking to at the bar on the edge of town told me that there's one kid who used to be a pretty good guy, but lately he’s gone off the rails; losing his temper with everyone, keeping his distance from his friends..."

Dean was ready to dismiss that as just some guy going through a rough patch when Garth said, "she told me his name was Trevor.  Trevor Parker.  I tracked him down and at first I thought - "

"He was just the town druggie," finished Dean, looking at Garth.

"Until he showed up on Lisa's porch," Dean and Garth said in unison.

"Wait, how do you know he showed up on Lisa's porch?!" Dean regarded Garth with suspicion.

"I was trailing the kid and I followed him there.  I saw you guys talking to him.  Dude; your girlfriend was packing!" Garth grinned.

"Yeah, no one was more surprised than I was," chuckled Dean.  "But that kid is just some druggie...he was one of Ben's friends but he’s turned into a huge pain in the ass.  Lisa thought he was coming around trying to use Ben to get money out of her, but he took off when I strongly suggested he leave."

"The shotgun didn't hurt either," said Garth.  "I think Lisa can hold her own but let's go with your story; it was all you; you scared him off." Garth smiled teasingly.

"Shut up," said Dean.  "But how do you know he's anything more than a giant loser?"

"As he left he walked past my car and I heard him on the phone saying, 'It's him.  Winchester.' "

"And you didn't think you should call me and TELL ME THAT?!" Dean raised his voice.

"You asked for two more days and I was respecting your request," said Garth defiantly.  "I had it under control, bro...nothing's happened yet, has it?"

Dean didn't respond.

"You're welcome," said Garth.  "Think about it; it's the perfect vessel for a demon; some loser kid who acts weird anyway because he's strung out half the time...hardly anyone’s going to notice if he starts acting different."

"Let's say you're right..." started Dean.

"I am," said Garth with confidence.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Let's say you're right," he started again, "what's he up to and who was he calling and what does he have to do with that hellhound death?"

"I'm still working on that part," said Garth.  "But maybe the demon came back to see his payoff on the deal with that dead guy in the car?"

"Maybe," said Dean, "or maybe this Trevor kid, demon, whatever, is tailing me and now he knows that I'm with her and..." Dean started to go a bit pale.

"Whoa man, stay with me," said Garth noticing the blood draining from Dean's face.  "It's okay; I'm tracking the dude's cell phone GPS...have been for days.  He's nowhere near Lisa's right now."

Dean took a deep breath, "Okay, but I have to do some work on that house," he and Garth exchanged looks of unspoken understanding.  There were devil's traps that needed to be laid down.

"That's probably not a bad idea," confirmed Garth.  "Want some help?" 

"No, I'll wait until Lisa's out and get it done," said Dean, "you try to find out who Trevor was calling and I'll try to dig up more on our hellhound victim; see if there's any connection."

Garth nodded in response.

"So, where's this Trevor kid right now?" asked Dean. 

"Uh, hold on, let me check," said Garth, walking around to the nightstand to get his own phone, "he's just outside the city limits...somewhere just a bit west of the cemetery.  I think the scrap yard is out there."

"The auto salvage place?" asked Dean with a rising tension in his voice. 

Garth looked over at him, "Yeah; what's the big deal about the salvage yard?" asked Garth.

"Ben works there," replied Dean, already halfway to the door.

"Shit!," exclaimed Garth, "I'm coming with you!"

 

 

 

20.

Dean and Garth burst through the door of the office at the salvage yard and practically scared the shit out of the guy behind the counter; same guy Dean had caught surfing porn the day before, wearing the same oil-spattered overalls.  He put his hands up instantly saying, "hold on now...the only money here is in the safe and it's on a timer..."

Seeing that the guy was alone in the office, Dean and Garth lowered their guns and flashed their fake badges.  After squinting at the badges, the guy behind the counter let out a deep breath, "Okay, then, what I can do for you two?  You didn't come busting in here like that because you were upset about that tail light I sold you yesterday, did you?" he said, raising an eyebrow sarcastically at Dean.

"No man, we're looking for someone," explained Dean.  "Someone in town said he was headed out here...Trevor Parker?"

"That stoner?  Yeah, he was here," confirmed overall guy.  "He was looking for Ben, but Ben called in sick today; said he had a rough night.

Dean felt a small pang of guilt knowing that he was entirely responsible for Ben's rough night.

"You lookin' for that kid because of the drugs?" asked overall guy.

"Uh, yeah," said Dean.  "So the fact that he's a dealer is no secret?"

"Dealer?" asked overall guy, "Naw; he's just a screwed up kid.  He asked where Ben was, but Ben doesn't need that kind of shit so I told him Ben went to Mac's salvage yard about two towns over to pick up some parts for me.  Ben sounded like death warmed over when he called this morning; he needs to sleep it off today and didn't need that asshole bothering him."

Dean smiled.  He couldn't be more grateful that people in this town cared about Lisa and Ben and looked out for them.

This guy was okay.

"Ben's a good kid," said overall guy.  "He's not in any trouble, is he?"

"No," said Dean, "not unless Trevor's bringing the trouble to him."

"I hope you can get your hands on that little shit then," said overall guy.  "Ben's a hard worker and doesn't need trash like that following him around."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When they got back to the Impala, they checked Garth's GPS and, sure enough, Trevor was at least half an hour away, on the way to Mac's.  Garth supposed they should have checked it as they drove, but Dean was so out of his mind to get out to the salvage yard, Garth had gotten swept up in the intensity.

"Keep and eye on him, will ya?" Dean asked Garth. "He's going to be pissed when he finds out that Ben's not where he thinks he is.  What the fuck does he want with Ben anyway?" he wondered aloud.

"I won't let the GPS out of my sight," said Garth.  "So back to plan A?  You dig up info on our hellhound victim and I'll see if I can find out who Trevor's in contact with?" 

"Sounds like a plan," confirmed Dean.

 

 

 

21.

On the way back to Lisa's Dean pulled off, parked the Impala under the canopy of an abandoned gas station, and took out his phone.  He dialed a number stored in his phone's address book marked "Char CDC".

A voice picked up on the other end.  "How's my favorite boy wonder?" the voice said.

"How's my favorite girl genius?" Dean replied.  "Hi Charlie."

Ever since she had helped him and Sam defeat Dick Roman, Dean had stayed in touch with Charlie.  She was like a sister to him.  When he needed a friendly voice at the other end of the line, she was always there for him.  She was smarter than anyone he knew.  Anyone aside from Sam anyway.  And she was a Goddamn miracle worker with anything electronic.

"Hi Dean, I'm hunky dory," replied Charlie.  "Long time, no call.  How the hell are you?"

"I'm good Charlie.  I'm really good," said Dean.

"I'm no mindreader, but you sound different.  You sound...I don't know, happy?  I'm glad to hear it.” said Charlie.

"Not as glad as I am to live it, believe me." he responded.  "How's Dora...and Scarlett?" Dean inquired.

"They're good," said Charlie, smiling.  "Scarlett's reading everything she can get her little hands on and Dora's a total whore for me, so it couldn't be better."

Dean laughed.  Charlie had married Dorothy soon after they re-appeared in the bunker when they unexpectedly fell through a door and into the kitchen while Sam and Dean were getting dinner ready one night.  Seems their time away together only brought them closer.  They were crazy about each other and anyone could see it.  The four of them; Charlie, Dora, Dean, and Sam had gone down to the courthouse two weeks later; the day after Dora proposed.  Dean endured the teasing from Dora that he was Charlie's maid of honor.  Sam stood up for Dora.  None of them had any family left except for each other. 

After the short ceremony, they celebrated back at the bunker with some of the Scotch from the Men of Letters alcoholic stockpile (stuff was probably worth a shitload of money if they had wanted to sell it, but Sam and Dean had never been much for hoarding anything, including money) and some great steaks and even a slightly drunk, probably ill-advised, shooting competition at the range between Dean and Dora.  Sam kept score.  Dora won but Dean would blame that on Sam's scorekeeping until the day he died.  Then Dean spent the rest of the night glad that the bunker walls were so thick while Dora kept Charlie up all night in what Sam had dubbed the "honeymoon suite". 

Dora was a bit of an acquired taste; she often rubbed people the wrong way but when Dean had pointed out Dora's sometimes-abrasive personality to Charlie early on, Charlie had cheerfully informed him that he would have to man up and get used to it because Dora actually rubbed her in all the right ways.  Dean had blushed and never mentioned it again.  He realized that Charlie and Dora were a package deal and he did not want to lose Charlie.  Besides, Dean had grown a lot more comfortable with the banter between himsef and Dora over the years. 

Then there was Scarlett, though Dean refused to call her anything but scar-face from the beginning. 

Scarlett was 6 now, but as an infant she had been the only surviving member of her family after a wendigo killed her mother and father.  Sam had come walking out of the bedroom of that cabin covered in red with this tiny blood-spattered baby crying in his arms.  The baby looked impossibly small in Sam's huge hands.  Dean had never seen such a pleading look on his brother's face.   The family they had raced to save lived in the middle of nowhere.  In fact, they were basically a self-sufficient homestead and it had been damn near impossible for Sam and Dean to find the place after they received a very faint satellite phone call in the middle of the night.  The call had come from one more family of off-the-grid people that had known Bobby and called out of desperation when they realized they were being stalked. 

Sam and Dean had gotten there too late and they hated themselves for it for months, but there was this baby and what the hell were they going to do with a baby?  Dean called Charlie for any advice at all that she could give and, to Charlie, it seemed like a miracle.  No one knew about this baby.  No one was going to miss this baby.  And she and Dora were ready.  Scarlett was the only name she could possibly have.  Sam winced a bit when Charlie named her...he remembered all the blood that had surrounded the day Scarlett entered their lives, and he tried as hard as he could to break that association over the years.  To Charlie it was no more than a tribute to Scarlett Johansson and Dora thought the name was bad-ass so she was on board with it.  Dean had given Charlie so much.  Her entire family, really.  She loved him for it.

"Hey, are you still working for the CDC?" Dean asked.

"All day every day" she confirmed.  "You have no idea the level of corporate espionage in the biotech industry.  Our government wants to keep on top of all of it.  That's why I'll never be out of a job.  What can I do you for?"

"I'm going to send you some samples.  I need you to run DNA on them," Dean continued.

"Do I get to know whose they are?" Charlie asked.

"Sorry, that's need-to-know only," deflected Dean.

"What if I need to know?" asked Charlie. 

Dean ignored her comment, "Can you do this for me?" he asked.

"Of course.  You know I can't say 'no' to you," she smiled into the phone.

"Thanks Charlie," Dean replied, "Who do I address this to?  What's your name this month?"

"Jaymie Bond," replied Charlie with no hint of irony in her voice.

"Jaymie Bond...James Bond, are you fucking kidding me?" asked Dean, eyebrows raised.

"Put that eyebrow down and shut up 'Robert Plant'," teased Charlie.  Sometimes Dean was sure she knew him too well.  "Hey Dean?" Charlie tried to get his attention before the line went dead.

"Yeah?" Dean responded.

"You know if we were Batman and Robin, I'd still be Batman."  It sounded like she was smiling.

"Shut up." Dean teased as he ended the call.

 

 

 

22.

Dean got back to Lisa's and found her note...she had gone to get some household stuff:

Back around 8:00.  
Food in the fridge,  
Love you,  
Lis

Dean stared at that.  "Love you".  It had only been a few days.  He'd loved her for decades, but could she really love him...HIM...it had only been a few days...

Dean tried to put that aside for the moment, even though those words had a pesky way of stabbing him in the brain when he least expected it... he had work to do. 

Once the devil's traps were in place (covered by carpet and furniture), he settled into a large chair with the laptop to check into their hellhound victim. 

Dean easily hacked into the police database and read as much as he could about the guy in the case history.  James McElroy....52...successful in business at the time of his death but had been unemployed for awhile after losing his wife 13 years ago in a car accident. He went to some doctor-mandated psychological counseling after he tried to kill himself back then...police received a frantic 911 call from a neighbor who found  McElroy unresponsive after ingesting an ungodly number of sleeping pills.  The hospital pumped his stomach; saved his life, and mandated counseling.  He ended up seeing a psychologist; C. Ramsey, the case file said; for about two years and then his life turned around....until he was found shredded inside his locked car.

No connection to Trevor.  _'What the fuck?'_ wondered Dean.

Dean heard a noise just behind the couch where he was camped out, working on the computer.  He grabbed his gun from where it had been sitting next to him and, lightening fast, whirled around to fire at whoever was behind him.  He found himself pointing the gun as Cas' chest.

"Jesus Christ, Cas!" he exclaimed.  "You do NOT want to keep sneaking up on me like that!"

"I was not sneaking," stated Cas.  "Why would I be sneaking?"  Cas looked confused.  Not at all phased that he had a gun against his chest.  "I assume that the other hunter is fine?"

"Yeah, Cas, Garth is fine," said Dean, lowering the pistol.

"Good.  I am glad to hear it,” responded Cas.

"Thanks.  He was in rough shape when we found him," said Dean sincerely.  "No offense Cas, but why are you here?"

"I am not offended," confirmed Cas.  "I am here to see if you and Ben were able to work things out."

 _‘How uncharacteristically thoughtful of Cas,’_ thought Dean.  Well, this was as good a time as any...

"Cas, is he mine?" Dean asked.

"Is who yours?" asked Cas, confused.

"Ben," specified Dean.  "Is he my son?"

Cas gave him a sympathetic look.  "Dean, I'm an angel, not a scientist." 

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.  "I thought angels knew every truth there was to know."

"We don't know everything Dean.  We know what we are told," Cas replied.  "But if Ben is your son, everything else would make sense."

"What do you mean, 'everything else'?" Dean asked with growing suspicion.

"The demons who are pursuing Ben.  They haven't done anything truly harmful yet, so I've just been watching over him.  I have not interfered.  I've been trying to figure out what they have planned."

Dean was stunned.  "You KNEW demons were tailing Ben and you didn't TELL ME?!?!" he shouted.

"You don't have to yell," Cas replied impassively.  "I never let any harm come to him."

"Well, that's a fine fuckin' piece of information I would have liked to have known," snapped Dean.

Cas looked confused.

"THE DEMONS, Cas, tell me what they're doing with Ben!" Dean said forcefully.

"I have been trying to figure that out," confirmed Cas.  "Since Ben is Lisa's son, and I could not figure out what they want with Ben, I thought I might try to find out if their real interest is in Lisa."

Cas finished and stood silently.

"AND??!?!?!?" asked Dean with some desperation.

"And what?" asked Cas.

"Cas, so help me God, I'm going to throttle you if you don't get on with it.  TELL ME WHAT YOU FOUND FOR GOD'S SAKE!" continued Dean, with decidedly more desperation.

"I don't think you could 'throttle' me if you tried, Dean, I'm an angel." Cas looked at Dean with what Dean thought might be smugness.  He'd never seen Cas look at all smug before.  Then Cas sighed, "You're not going to like this Dean," he said and he raised his hand to touch Dean's forehead.

 

 


	5. HOME (part 1) chapters 23 - 27

23.

Dean and Cas stood in a room that was empty except for two chairs, a desk, and a lonely plant.

"I REALLY wish you'd give me some warning before you do that," complained Dean, feeling the familiar pang in his gut that accompanied any kind of time travel with Cas.

"I find that it works better if you are not fearful.  A warning would only cause fear," said Cas flatly.

"Yeah, fear of being backed up for a week," complained Dean.  "Where are we, Cas?"

"It's three months ago," Cas responded.  "But remember, they can't see or hear us."

"Who can't..." Dean started to ask.

The door opened and a shapely blonde woman entered.  She sat down in one of the chairs and started shuffling through some papers.  There was a knock at the door and another woman came in - with long dark hair and kind eyes.

Lisa. 

Dean drew in his breath and gave Cas his best 'what the hell' look.

Lisa sat down opposite the blonde woman.

"Sorry I'm late, Charlotte," she apologized.

"It's your hour to use as you want," Charlotte responded with a smile.  "Now, where did we leave off...we were talking about your plans for the future and let me say, I'm glad to hear you making plans for the future.  You've come a long way since we first started these sessions."

"Sessions?" Dean questioned Cas.  "Cas, this is wrong; this is private.  We shouldn't be here."

"Just listen, Dean," Cas shut him down.

Dean turned back to watch the scene in front of him feeling like some sort of stalker.

"I've been thinking about it and I think I'm ready to start dating again," said Lisa.

"Good, good, that's definitely progress," replied Charlotte.

Lisa continued "You know I felt so hopeless after the accident.  I just felt like, I don't know, like somehow I lost half of myself, like I wasn't whole anymore."

Cas looked at Dean.  "I believe she feels this loss because she lost you," Cas stated matter-of-factly.  Dean couldn't respond.  He swallowed hard.

"You know, I could help you with that...with moving on," Charlotte said.

"I thought that's what this past year has been about," Lisa said with a small laugh.

"Well, yes, but I mean, I can really HELP you to not be alone anymore," Charlotte said with emphasis.

Lisa looked confused.  "Yes, I mean, I welcome any advice you have for me.  You know that.  That's why I'm here."

Charlotte smiled and said, "You need to focus on what you want.  The qualities you want in a partner.  And don't sell yourself short.  Don't settle.  You're an amazing woman.  I want you to focus on your soulmate."

 _'This is getting slightly weird,’_ Lisa thought.  What was Charlotte going to suggest?  Visualization? Inviting positive karma?  That she should read "The Secret"?

"In fact," Charlotte continued, "I think we've made so much progress that you really don't need to continue seeing me anymore.  Will you let me help you with this one last step and then agree to meet with me again...in 10 years?  You know, I just don't want to lose track of the patients that I care about.  Like you."

Lisa nodded though this was making her uncomfortable.  Was she really ready to stop these sessions?  Why was Charlotte acting this way?  But this was Charlotte; the person she had poured her heart and soul out to over the past year.  If not for Charlotte, she'd probably still be lying in a dark room unable to get out of bed.

"Okay, sure," said Lisa, somewhat warily.

"Is that a 'yes'?" asked Charlotte.

"Yes, yes...I'll try to think about the type of person I want to be with," Lisa said, closing her eyes and leaning back in the chair.  "Should I be telling you about - "

Suddenly, Charlotte was sitting on the arm of Lisa's chair.  Before she knew it, she felt Charlotte kissing her; forcefully; on the lips, then forcing her tongue into Lisa's mouth and Lisa felt her mouth burning like she's just bitten into a habanero.

She shoved Charlotte away and backed towards the door.

"What the fuck?!" Lisa spat out some of the saliva in her mouth that wasn't her own.  "I should sue you!"

"Calm down, Lisa...I was just trying to help you...give you what you want," Charlotte stated knowingly.

"Get away from me,"  Lisa demanded.  "I cannot believe you!  After all the time we spent together over the past year and everything I've told you....you're right, we ARE done!" she said as she lunged for the door and ran out.

Left alone in the room, Charlotte smiled.  Her eyes black.

Dean looked at Cas dumbfounded, "A DEMON deal, Cas?...Lisa made a demon deal??" 

"I'm afraid so," confirmed Cas.  "I don't think she even knew she was doing it."

"You said you were watching over them, Cas!" Dean looked at him with desperation.

"I couldn't be with them every second.  I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said apologetically. 

"So maybe the demon didn't hold up her end...I mean, this was three months ago and where's this perfect guy that's supposed to give Lisa everything she wanted?" Dean asked.

Cas looked at Dean as if he were truly sorry he was so stupid sometimes.

"It's you Dean.  You're the only one for her.  It's destiny," Cas said.

"You know how I feel about destiny, Cas,” Dean said coldly.  “Get me out of here.”

Cas raised his hand to touch Dean's forehead, but Dean stopped him.  He had caught sight of the nameplate on the door that was now hanging wide open after Lisa bolted.

C. Ramsey, psychologist.

"Shit!" cursed Dean. 

"I'll try to be as gentle as possible," said Cas, thinking he knew why Dean had stopped him.  "I know that time travel is not pleasant, but you have to let me take you back if you want me to get you out of here as you said."

"No, Cas, it's not that," said Dean, nearing full-on panic mode as he made the connection between Lisa and his hellhound victim.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Back in Lisa's house, Dean turned to Cas, "I've got to find this Charlotte bitch,"  Dean said icily.  "Tell me where she is, Cas."

"I don't know," said Cas.  "I've been trying to find her, but she's hidden from me somehow."

"Then I'm going back to that office," stated Dean.

"I can take you there," said Cas, raising his hand.

Dean stopped him again, "No, no, thanks Cas; just the address.  I don't think I can take you zapping me anywhere else today."

Cas shrugged, wondering why Dean would choose anything other that the fastest, most direct way to get there.

"You got an address for me?" asked Dean.

 

 

 

24.

Dean was pushing it; going 50 in a 30 zone, and the way the engine roared, the Impala wasn't exactly subtle, but he wanted to get there fast and it didn't take long.  Turned out that Charlotte Ramsey's office was barely halfway across town from Lisa's.

Dean tried to walk as casually as possible through the lobby of the small two-story office building.  No one looked twice except the young guy behind the desk who appeared to be checking him out while simultaneously making it look as if he weren't looking.  _'Jesus,'_ thought Dean to himself.  He'd never understand why guys found him appealing.

Dean made his way up the stairs and found the door with "C. Ramsey, psychologist" on the nameplate.  He had the incredibly weird sensation of just having been somewhere he'd actually never physically been before.  Some weird-ass time-travel angel deja-vu shit.

Dean kicked his way in, pistol drawn, but found the only thing to aim at was a dying potted plant. 

Nothing else remained in the office.  No files, no computer, no nothing.  Dean lowered his gun, deflated.  He had been ready to kick some ass and now he felt like a guy who'd been cockblocked.

Dean's phone rang, actually making him jump in the deathly quiet empty office, as amped up as he was.  It was Garth.

"Dean," Garth practically shouted, "the GPS...Trevor's on the move and it looks like he's headed towards Lisa's...I'm about 20 minutes out; are you closer?"

"I'm about 10 minutes out.  SHIT, Garth!  Meet me there!" Dean yelled as he ran down the stairs in the office building (the desk clerk admired Dean's ass as he ran but Dean was too frantic to notice) and slid into the Impala as the engine roared to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Dean's mind raced as he drove as recklessly as possible.  It was dark now and the streetlights flashed by like strobes.  He actually had to give this demon bitch Charlotte one thing; posing as a psychologist was the perfect cover.  You get to hear everyone's deepest darkest secrets and fears and vulnerabilities so you can use them against them.  She must have been at it in that town for years.  At least since his hellhound victim...so she had to have been working here at least 10 years or more.  Thank God Lisa only made the deal with her 3 months ago, they had a little time. 

He was going to make this demon bitch suffer when he found her. 

 

 

 

25.

Lisa walked through the door into her darkened home.  As she flipped on the light switch, she was roughly grabbed from behind and there was a hand over her mouth.  Terrified, she tried to turn but instead caught a glimpse of her attacker in the window reflection.  It was Trevor.  But something didn't look right about him.  She bit his hand and he pulled it back.

"Trevor, what the fuck are you doing here...let me go!" she yelled.

Trevor's voice sounded odd.  "Oh, Trevor's not really here right now," he said.  "But he always had a thing for you, Lisa...I know he thought of you many times when he was alone in his bedroom jerking himself off, so I think he'll enjoy this."

Lisa felt her shirt rip and then his hands were on her waist.  She struggled against him with all her strength.

"Trevor, are you sick?  What is wrong with you?!  Get your hands off me!!!" she demanded.

"Oh, I don't think I can do that," he responded.  "I heard from your good friend Charlotte just how scared you were of being vulnerable...you know, deep down, below that tough exterior...oh yeah, she told me everything.... and now, well, seeing just how important you are to Dean, I just had to take advantage of this opportunity.  You are just too damn hot to pass up.” Lisa felt her jeans rip from her body as she was thrown to the floor in the middle of the living room rug.  Trevor was on top of her.

 _'This cannot be happening!'_ she screamed inside her head, _'not after all I've been through...'_

There was a bone-jarring crash at the front door as it was kicked in, splintering apart at the deadbolt.  Dean managed to pull Trevor off of Lisa before he was thrown against the wall, "Run, Lisa!" he shouted.

Lisa scrambled on all fours off the carpet and grabbed at what was left of her shirt as she ran towards the door.  As terrified as she was, she stopped short of leaving.  She didn't want to leave Dean alone with whatever the hell this was.

"Get out of here, Lisa," Dean directed, never taking his eyes off Trevor who jumped up and attempted to leap towards Lisa before he seemed to be stopped by an invisible force.

"No," she said, but couldn't manage much more.  She felt frozen in place.  Then the room went dark and she collapsed to the floor.

"Lisa!" Dean yelled, struggling against his invisible restraints.

Trevor smiled a bloody smile.  _'At least Lisa got one good shot to his face in,'_ Dean thought.  But that thought quickly vanished as he realized Lisa was almost naked; realized how close he had come to being too late and what had almost happened.  He felt rage fill him to the point of exploding.

"Don't worry Dean, I think it was just all the excitement; got the best of her, you know?"  Trevor glanced towards Lisa.

"You son of a bitch.  Did you really think you could come after my family and get away with it?!" Dean shouted at Trevor. 

Trevor made a move to get closer to Dean, but he remained on the carpet. 

Realizing he couldn't move forward, and with his invisible hold on Dean weakening by the second, Dean slid to the floor.  

"Now you’re mine," Dean said menacingly.  He kicked the corner of the rug aside to reveal a Devil's trap on the floor underneath.

" 'your family'?" Trevor said mockingly. 

"Where is she?" Dean questioned Trevor.

"The legendary Dean Winchester needs something from me, huh?" taunted Trevor.  "I don't know who you’re talking about."

"Charlotte, you dick!" Dean stepped closer to the circle.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk....I can't tell you that," said Trevor. "Charlotte's got friends in high places, and besides, she’s not my boss anymore; she took a promotion."

"Listen to me you hellspawn...I am going to take you apart, one limb at a time, unless you tell me."  Dean could scarcely control himself.

"Take your best shot.  I'll probably enjoy it.  Of course, not as much as I would have enjoyed banging your little whore over there, but you're almost as pretty as she is,"  Trevor smiled.

Dean couldn't take it anymore.  He had Ruby's knife, but this was personal now.  Using Ruby's knife would have been too easy.  He took a switchblade from his sleeve and threw it squarely at Trevor's upper thigh, perilously close to Trevor’s dick.  Trevor collapsed to the floor with a howl, then a demonic laugh, "Oh Dean, I had no idea you were attracted to me in that way.  You're such a tease."

"Where is she?!?!" Dean demanded.

"You think I'm going to tell you without getting anything in return?  You know how this works, Dean," Trevor said.

"This works the way I say it works." Dean responded.  "You tell me where she is." He pulled another knife from the top of his boot and poured some holy water over it from his flask.  He walked to the edge of the devil's trap.

Trevor stood face-to-face with Dean, his eyes as black as his demon soul.  "There's nothing that you can do to me, Dean Winchester, that's worse than what Charlotte will do if I tell you where she is."  

"Don't be so sure of that," Dean responded, as he raised is blade, lightening fast, and pointed it directly at Trevor's eye.  With a thrust and a sizzling noise, it penetrated his skull.  Trevor recoiled.

"Son of a bitch!" exclaimed Trevor.

"Now, do you want to tell me where she is before I take a shot at your other eye?" Dean asked.

"I'd think I'd rather talk about my good friend, Ben."  Trevor stared through Dean.  "He's quite talented. We've been spending a lot of time together lately."

"You don't say one more word about my son,"  Dean threatened.  It just slipped out.  He had always felt that Ben was his, no matter who his biological father might have been.

"Son?," Trevor repeated with glee, "Charlotte is going to love hearing this when she gets back from Tulsa.” Trevor's remaining good eye widened.  Blood dripped from the handle of the knife in his other eye and soaked into the carpet.

Dean cursed himself for letting that little detail slip, but then he smiled.  Demons always talked too much when they got excited about something.  He wasn't the only one who had let something slip.  He knew what he needed to know so he took a step back and started, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica, Ergo draco maledicte et sectio..."

Trevor's body heaved as if he were about to vomit as small bits of black smoke escaped from his mouth.  He put his hands to his throat as the blackness erupted from him and made for the nearest window.  Trevor's body, looking something like a pincushion with knives protruding from it, collapsed, motionless, on the floor.

Dean stepped into the Devil's trap and knelt to check for any signs of life.

He was lucky he was kneeling because a shotgun blast exploded from the open door behind him and Dean flinched at the unexpected concussion.   Garth rushed in.

"Where is it?!" he demanded, "I'm gonna kill that evil sonofabitch...Dean, take cover!  I've got this!" he continued as he pointed his shotgun to the left and right trying to get his bearings. 

"Whoa there Garth," Dean said loudly from the floor.  "It's okay."

Garth had been so full of adrenaline he hadn't looked down and was surprised to hear Dean's voice coming from down on the floor.

"Oh, thank God you're okay," Garth said in a rush of air as he exhaled and lowered the shotgun.  "Is he dead?  I tracked him here."

"No, he's still alive, but barely," Dean said, feeling Trevor's neck.  "Could you get him to the hospital? And don't touch either of those knives...if you pull them out, he'll likely bleed to death."

"I'm on it," said Garth "I'll think up a good story on the way there."

"If anyone can, you can," Dean said with relief in his voice.

Garth turned towards the door and started when he saw Lisa crumpled awkwardly on the floor.  "Should I take her too?" he asked.

"No, no...thanks," said Dean.  "She passed out.  I'll take care of her."

"I'm sure you will," Garth winked at Dean.

"Just get out of here while this guy still has a chance," said Dean.  Why was everything with Garth always sexual?  And always at the most inappropriate time.   Garth came over to help him move Trevor’s dead weight to the El Camino.

 

 

 

26.

As soon as Garth drove off, Dean went to Lisa.  He carefully picked her up and carried her to bed.  He wasn't going anywhere.  Her breathing seemed strong.  Good.  He was pretty sure she was going to be physically okay.  He sat down in a chair next to the bed, prepared to remain there as long as necessary.

As Dean watched Lisa sleep he was burning up with rage over what Charlotte (and by association, Trevor) had done to her.  At least he knew what he had to do.

Dean needed to go after this Charlotte bitch.  He was going to need Sam.

Hunting with Sam.  For Dean, having Sam with him was almost like having two of himself on a hunt.  They had been hunting together for so long that they each knew what the other would do in any given situation.  They didn't have to talk...they barely had to make eye contact to know with certainty what their roles were.  Dean was able to work with other hunters, but hunting with Sam was just, well, it was like breathing.  Automatic, damn near perfect, and somehow essential to who he was.  He was about to give Sam a call when Lisa stirred and Dean snapped back to the present.  Lisa settled down again and started breathing slowly and evenly as she fell into a deeper sleep.

Dean sent up a prayer to Cas. 

Once again, maybe because of him, or maybe this time by insane coincidence, evil had been circling those he loved.  He couldn't explain this away for Lisa.  She had seen enough to know it wasn't just Ben's pothead friend Trevor trying to force himself on her (the thought of which made Dean’s blood boil all over again).

Cas appeared silently sitting at the foot of the bed.  For once Dean was expecting him and didn't jump.  Dean didn't say a word.

Cas lightly put his hand on Lisa's chest.  "She okay," Cas proclaimed.  He moved his hand to her head and closed his eyes, "She won't feel anything more from the concussion.  Is that all you wanted?"

"No," said Dean quietly and, Cas thought, darkly.

"What else do you need?" he asked.

Dean looked at him.  "I need her to remember."

"After Ben, I thought you might want me to do this," stated Cas.  "Ben endured it very well but there is no way to know how Lisa will react."

"I know," said Dean flatly.

"You're sure then?" asked Cas.

"Yeah Cas, I'm sure," Dean breathed out, defeated and pretty sure he was totally screwed.

Cas touched Lisa's forehead and closed his eyes in concentration.

 

 

 

27.

Suddenly, Lisa's eyes flew open.  Her gorgeous, kind, deep brown eyes were wild now and seemed to be flashing between brown and black.  There was a mix of confusion and anger there as she scrambled backward on the bed until her back was up against the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest.  She looked like a frightened animal.  Dean's heart just about sank to the floor. 

Lisa's brow furrowed as she took in the angel in the trench coat, "Cas?" she asked.

She remembered.

Lisa turned and looked at Dean.  He could feel it coming.  "How could you?!?!?!" she said with such hurt in her voice, he could hardly stand it.  She shed a tear.  Then another and another.  Her skin, usually beautiful and smooth was red and splotchy.  "I can't believe you would do this to us!" she said, her voice sounding utterly crushed.  She made a move away from the headboard, towards Dean, as if she might even strike him.  Cas caught her arms and held her back.

Dean knew she was right.  It had been nothing but selfish for him to come back into their lives.  All he did was bring them harm.  He was poison to those he loved.  He didn't know how much longer he couldbear to sit and listen to how much he had hurt her.  "I'll get my stuff together," he mumbled, trying not to look at her. 

At some point in his exhausting life, he had faced down every evil known to man.  And survived.  But he was sure he could not survive this; losing them again.  Causing them pain again.  If this was what was going to happen, his only way forward would be to eat a bullet from his own revolver.

Cas sensed Dean's energy turning towards a very dark place and he looked at him intensely, shaking his head 'no' ever so slightly, but Dean wasn't looking at him.

"What do you mean you'll 'get your stuff'’?" Lisa asked.  "I'm not done," she continued.

"I just don't know if I can..." Dean choked, unable to say more.

"I cannot believe that you would think that erasing our memories of you would make our lives better!  What gave you the right to rob me of the best years of my life?!?!  I mean, I was a fucking mess after that 'accident'.  For YEARS!  Erasing those memories of you didn't keep me from having those nightmares or from feeling more alone and broken than I'd ever felt."  It never added up to her why a simple auto accident had caused such a crisis in her life.  Now it was making sense.

Suddenly Lisa remembered what happened right before she woke up in the hospital; the demon inside of her, forcing her to hold a knife to Ben's throat.  She fought the sudden urge to vomit.

Dean was stunned.  She wasn't mad because he had returned.  She was irate that he'd left in the first place.

She looked down as the tears fell and sighed.  Cas looked to Dean for direction and Dean nodded.  Cas let go of Lisa.

She wasn't looking at him.  "Dean.  You've always been the only one.  You're the only one that ever mattered to me."

Dean put his hand over his mouth to keep from making any noise but his shoulders heaved slightly, but only for a moment.  He reached out and touched her face.  She raised it to look at him.  "You're the only one that ever mattered to me too Lis'." he said, standing up and wondering if his legs would hold his weight.

She quickly crossed the few feet that separated them and put her arms around him.  Her head on his chest.  Dean looked over her head to Cas as he embraced her as tightly as he could, tears filled his eyes.  Cas smiled.  Dean actually thought he caught a glimpse of Cas' eyes shining.  Not possible.  Angels don't cry.  Then Cas was gone.

She turned her face to his, found his lips and kissed them, long and slow and achingly soft.  In that kiss, Dean felt the physical embodiment of forgiveness.  A huge weight lifted off of him and he felt truly free.

He felt it in his soul with a calm certainty he could not explain.

He was home.

 

 


	6. HOME (part 1) chapters 28 - 32

28.

When Lisa was asleep that night, Dean took out his phone and made his way down to the darkened living room.  He had put this off as long as possible, but it was time to call Sam.

Sam picked up on the second ring, "Dean, are you okay?" were the first words out of his mouth.

Dean expected it; they had this pathological need to make sure the other one was intact.  Dean would have answered a call from Sam in exactly the same way.

"Hey Sammy, I'm okay," answered Dean.  "You okay?"

"I think so," responded Sam, "at least I'm sleeping better than I was when I got here.  I think I figured some shit out."

Dean let out a breath.  He was glad to hear it.  “Tell me about it."  When he'd dialed Sam he'd been completely focused on hunting Charlotte and needing Sam's help to do it, but concern for is brother momentarily made him forget his reason for calling.

"I will," said Sam, "but first tell me why you called.  I've been kinda worried about you, man.  It's been a week."

 _'Only a week?'_ thought Dean.  It felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd parted ways with Sam.  So much had happened.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner," apologized Dean.  He fell silent, suddenly not really sure where to start.

"You still there?" Sam asked.

Dean took a deep breath.  "I've been with Lisa," no other way to say it.

Nothing but silence on Sam's end now.

"Sam?" asked Dean.

"How?" asked Sam, rather flatly.

"I didn't go looking for this," Dean stated, "but it turns out had some shit to figure out too."

Dean told Sam everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam's initial confusion and irritation morphed into concern as Dean talked.  Mostly he was just pissed that Dean hadn't called him earlier but he tried to set that aside and just listen.  Dean was calling now, after all.  He knew Dean hadn't been 100% ever since he had decided that Lisa and Ben should have no memory of him, but Sam had never expected Dean to find them again.  When Dean made up his mind, it usually stayed that way.  Dean's need for them had to be undeniable for Dean to have done this.  Because if Dean could possibly deny something, he would.

"So, this Charlotte bitch," started Sam, "when are you leaving for Tulsa?"  He knew Dean would not want to talk about feelings and also recognized that it had taken some courage on Dean's part to call him at all.

"Day after tomorrow," confirmed Dean.  "Can you meet me?"

"I can be at the bunker in two days," promised Sam.  "Pick me up on the way?"

"See you there," Dean sounded visibly relieved.  He needed Sam on this one.  Sam knew it.

"Okay, so what'd you figure out up there at our 4-star retreat?" Dean asked, trying to direct the focus of the conversation away from himself as quickly as possible.

"We'll talk on the drive," said Sam.  "And we're not done talking about this Lisa thing either," Sam said in a tone that Dean understood to mean he was not going to get out of Sam wanting to dissect this.

"Yeah, okay," Dean said with resignation.  "It's good to hear your voice, Sammy," Dean finished.  Sam could hear the sincerity.

"You too, man." Sam responded.

 

 

 

29.

Dean told Garth about his plans the next day in the motel room.

"We taking one car or two?" asked Garth.

"One," said Dean, "but I need you to stay here."

Garth's face started to color a bit, "No way, man," he protested, "we've been in this together all along and we need to see it through.  Besides, I'm not letting you go after a high level demon without backup."

"I'll have Sam with me," Dean admitted.

"Oh," said Garth, clearly crushed that he'd been replaced.  "But the two of you could use everyone you can get..." he started to plead his case.

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, "Look, man, I trust you with my life.  That's why I need you to keep and eye on Lisa and Ben while I'm gone.  If word about any of this gets back to Charlotte, and the way she knows Lisa so well…” Dean trailed off.

Garth's face softened a bit and suddenly, what Dean was asking felt more like an honor than a demotion. "I know how much they mean to you," Garth said, "I won't let anything happen to them.  But it still sucks that I won't be able to finish that bitch off with you."

Dean smiled, "Agreed," he said.

"But you'll tell me everything when you get back?" Garth asked hopefully.

"Every single bloody, gut wrenching detail," promised Dean.

Garth smiled.

"There is something though," said Dean.

"Sure, anything you need bro," said Garth.

"I need an exorcism," he replied.

Garth's face registered confusion, "Is your memory going?  No one can recite 21 flavors of exorcism faster than you and Sam."

"This one has to be different," said Dean, "Special."

"Special, how?" asked Garth suspiciously.

Dean explained what he needed and he and Garth got down to work.  Dean knew Garth had vast resources in other hunters and in his ability to do research.  He also had an incredible memory and if he'd ever heard of anything like what Dean was looking for, he'd remember.

Garth handed Dean a piece of paper about an hour later while Dean was still aimlessly pointing and clicking online trying to find anything that worked for his intended purpose.

Dean looked up at Garth with genuine admiration, "That was fast man," he complimented him.

Garth smiled a huge smile, "I get the job done," he said with pride. 

"Yes you do," said Dean smiling with appreciation. "Sure this is going to work?"

"Oh, it'll work," said Garth with a confident smile.

Dean left Garth at the motel and drove back to Lisa’s to explain where he had to go and why.  He hoped she loved him enough to continue trusting him. 

Turned out, she did.

_(Lisa was even agreeable to letting Garth take the guest room, just to be sure.  Garth was a bit shy about it, but he went along.  Dean had given him a job and he was determined to do it right.  Two days later, Garth found Lisa in the kitchen having coffee with her high school friend Wendy who had called her up out of the blue requesting a visit.  Wendy had just asked Lisa if she'd been seeing anyone - romantically - these days.  Lisa thought that was kind of a personal question from someone she hadn't seen in years.  Wendy got up to get more coffee from the pot on the counter.  Garth was already suspicious about this unexpected visitor and he walked up behind Lisa, quietly whispering in her ear "follow my lead".  She looked at him questioningly, but nodded.  Wendy turned around from the counter to see Garth with his arm around Lisa's shoulders and she looked downright shocked.  She'd obviously been expecting someone else.  Garth slipped some holy water into  Wendy's drink when she wasn't looking and, sure enough, she choked on the next sip.  Garth acted quickly, dousing Wendy with holy water while telling Lisa to go get the shotgun which he'd loaded with rounds packed with a sludge of rock salt and holy water.  He knew he had to try to not sacrifice a friend of Lisa's as he forced the demon out of her.  With all pretense gone and Wendy securely bound to a chair in the center of the living room carpet, Garth was able to learn that the demon inside her was Trevor's new boss, come to check out the phoned-in tip that Dean Winchester was living there now.  Garth and Lisa made a pretty good team and she brought him what he asked for to complete the interrogation and exorcism as gently as possible.  Wendy came to, dazed and totally confused as to why she was tied to a chair in Lisa's house, but she was going to live and Garth mixed up a concoction of roofies and painkillers that would make her forget just enough, but not so much that she couldn't get home on her own when she woke up in her car about a mile outside of town.  Lisa helped Garth drive her out there and leave her in a safe spot.  Lisa was a little rattled, but she was glad Garth was there and Garth blushed when she kissed him on the cheek in thanks.  Even though Dean would be pissed, Garth decided he wouldn't bother Dean with the details of this little episode until he got back.  Three days later, Garth thought it was a little odd when Lisa told him she was okay and he should go back to the motel.  Garth was confused, but was nothing if not a gentleman so he honored Lisa's request and just staked out her house 24/7 instead to make sure she was safe.  He wondered if he'd done something to offend her.  He had to admit he had a bit of a crush on her.)_

 

 

 

 

  
  
30.

Between Indiana and Kansas, Dean pulled off the highway at Schroeder’s.  It was his favorite kind of burger joint; old-fashioned and cheap.  He has just started to dig into a cheeseburger, enjoying the way the sun was warming the inside of the Impala.

Dean's phone rang.

"Char, CDC," proclaimed the caller ID screen.

Dean felt queasy.  Suddenly the awesome burger wasn’t so awesome anymore.

Dean took a deep breath and answered.

"Hey girl genius," he said.

"Hey boy wonder,"  she replied. 

They both smiled.

"So, Dean, this DNA...I have the results.  I could mail you a copy, but I thought I should tell you...these people are related.  Father and son," she said matter-of-factly.  "And one of them is you," she continued cautiously.

"How could you possibly know that?" Dean asked, slightly irritated.

"Well, you're in the federal database.  Not as Dean Winchester, you're actually in there as Steven Perry, but, you know, I have my ways.  I knew that was you," Charlie revealed.

Dean sighed.  "All I can say is that I'm glad you're on my side.  You're way too smart, Charlie."

"Guilty," she said matter-of-factly.  "So, Dean, actually, I've taken up knitting and, well I'd love to send you a blue blanket, see, I have this pattern I've been wanting to try and -"

"Charlie," Dean tried to interject.  But Charlie talked too much when she was nervous and she couldn't stop.

"I'd just love to send you something, you know, to congratulate you on the little guy and..."

"CHARLIE!" Dean raised his voice.

Charlie stopped.  "Yes, Dean?" she asked quietly.

"You don't need to send a blue blanket," he replied quietly.

"Well, I could re-run the test but it looks from these results like it's a boy...are you saying it's a girl?" Charlie asked.

"It's not a girl," Dean responded, trying to summon up some more patience.

There was silence on the other end.  Then Charlie's voice was barely audible as she asked, "Dean, is the baby...I mean, is it human?"

"What?!?!  Oh God, Charlie, yes, of course it's human!" Dean said, exasperated.

"Sorry, but, you know, if it were anyone else I wouldn't have asked but...no offense," she countered.

"None taken," Dean replied, slightly put out.  "Charlie, I won't be needing any baby stuff because my son is 19."

"Oh,"  said Charlie.  She didn't know what to say here. 

"I needed to know for sure,"  said Dean.

"Anything for you," Charlie said.  She meant it.  "I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it right now?” she asked.

”You guessed right,” Dean said. 

Charlie thought he sounded tired.  Damn, she loved this guy, “Dean, you know I'm here if you ever want to talk,” she reminded him.

Dean let her heartfelt offer cover him like a soft blanket.  "I'm going to take you up on that soon," he replied.

Charlie could hear the relief and trepidation in his voice.

Dean hung up and swallowed hard.  He pulled the Impala back into the 2-lane highway and went back to repeating the Latin words from the paper that Garth had handed him...over, and over, and over.

 

 

 

31.

Two days later, the Impala growled to a halt in Kansas, outside the bunker.

Dean walked through the door.  "Honey, I'm home!" he proclaimed and looked down to see Sam smirking up at him from the table in the main hall.

"And you call me a giant girl?" Sam teased.

Dean quickly made his way down the stairs and Sam stood up, giving Dean his usual quick brotherly hug.  He noticed that Dean seemed lighter, somehow.  "You look different," Sam said, scrutinizing Dean as they separated.

Dean ignored the comment.  "You look like you couldn't find a razor if it bit you on the ass," Dean commented on Sam's scruff.

Sam rubbed his chin, "Yeah, someone forgot to stock that 4-star resort of yours," he smiled.

"You got everything?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, all set," confirmed Sam.

"Okay, I'm gonna hit the head, then we're out of here," Dean said over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

15 minutes later, the Impala hummed down the four-lane headed west.  Dean glanced over at Sam, folded up in the passenger seat.  He felt all was right with the world with Sam there; never mind that they were headed towards what was probably going to be a dangerous hunt.  Never mind that he had no clue how he was going to hold onto Lisa or what the hell the future could possibly look like.  He was here, going hunting with Sam.  Nothing ever felt more right.

"So what's the plan?" asked Sam, looking over at Dean.

"Nuh-uh," Dean replied.  "You first.  What happened up at the cabin?"

"Okay, but when I'm done we're not just talking about the hunt," said Sam, reminding Dean he wasn't going to let the "I'm with Lisa" comment go by without any discussion.

Sam told Dean what had happened in the week they were apart.  The nightmares, his solution, and the unexpected help he got.  Dean listened, surprised at first, then shocked, then not liking what Sam was planning to do one bit. 

"No way in hell, Sam," Dean responded when Sam finished.  "It's too dangerous.  I can't let you do that."

"It's the only way Dean," said Sam with conviction. "I've thought this through.  And since when do you decide what I can and can't do?"  No matter what Sam's age, Dean somehow thought he still made the rules.

Dean knew what Sam's tone meant.  It meant he had already made up his mind and he was going to do this with or without Dean.  Dean glared at Sam.

"You can glare at me all you want," said Sam, "but don't worry Dean, I'm not an idiot.  I'm not going to rush into this.  I have a lot more planning to do.   And you don't have to be involved at all."

"Like hell!" responded Dean.  "It's not like I'm letting you do this alone!"

Sam had counted on Dean acting like he always did.  Even if he didn't like the plan, he couldn't stand to stay away where hunting and Sam were involved. 

"Maybe we can figure out something else," Dean offered.

"Well, we've got time and I'm definitely not going in with guns blazing," said Sam, "I actually don't think guns would do much good anyway," he finished.

"Yeah," agreed Dean, "and that's what makes me so damn uncomfortable."

"Your turn," said Sam, "what's the plan when we get to Tulsa?"

Dean told Sam what he'd been thinking...how Charlotte would probably be pretty easy to find since the psychologist thing was such a good cover...he doubted she'd change her M.O. when she moved to a new town with fresh souls.  He had been able to exorcize Trevor and when a demon is sent back to hell like that, there's a good chance the won't be getting out for awhile, so unless Charlotte had phoned home for some reason, she didn't know what was coming. 

Dean thought that Sam should pose as a new patient (Dean didn't trust himself to keep his cool) and get his foot in the door with Charlotte while they tried to figure out her habits; where she lived and who she was talking to in town.  Demons of her rank rarely went it alone and, like Trevor, she probably had assistants helping her find people who were so down on their luck that they would sell their soul just to get whatever it was they thought would make them whole.

Once they had the lay of the land, and once they'd covered their asses by dispatching anyone working with Charlotte, Sam would easily be able to get her alone under the pretense of needing some emergency crisis counseling.  Dean had something very special planned for Charlotte, but he didn't go into detail with Sam.  He only said he'd "take care of her" but he knew that if Sam knew what he was planning, he might not go along with it.

Sam thought the plan was a bit short on specifics, but they always figured it out. 

"Okay, that's a start," said Sam.

"What do you mean 'that's a start'?" asked Dean, giving Sam a sideways "what the fuck?" look.  "It's a great plan!"

"Yeah, okay, it's a perfect plan," agreed Sam sarcastically. 

Dean chuckled at Sam's teasing. 

There was silence for a few minutes then Sam said, "Lisa.  Talk to me."

"C'mon man," said Dean, trying to dodge, "Let’s talk about the plan some more..."

"No," said Sam, in his no bullshit voice.  "This is pretty huge, I mean, you made up your mind.  You were so sure about them not remembering you being the best thing."

"Yeah, well, I made one mistake," said Dean regretfully.  "I didn't have Cas wipe them from my memory.  I couldn't do it.  I was selfish and I couldn't lose that."

"It's not selfish, Dean," said Sam with concern in his voice.  "Our lives aren't exactly brimming with happy memories.  So what if you wanted to hold onto something that was good?"

"It was selfish, Sam," Dean insisted. "If I'd let Cas wipe my memory too, then this never would have happened."

"Oh you think so?" said Sam skeptically.

Dean looked over at Sam, suspicious.  "What the fuck do you mean?" he asked.

"Dean, if you didn't remember her and she didn't remember you, you STILL would have ended up in that same dive bar and you STILL would have gone home with her and fucked each other senseless,” Sam smiled, "That's what you do.  Or it's what you used to do."

Dean scoffed.

"Only difference was, because you remembered, you were looking for things that didn't add up...you knew how much Lisa meant to you," Sam said, "do you really think you would have stuck around and tried to make sure she was safe if you thought she was some one night stand?  You and Garth could have blown town when your hellhound victim was a dead end."

Sometimes Dean loved Sam.

"Truth is," Sam continued, "the only reason that Lisa's soul is going to be hers again...the only reason Ben knows he wasn't abandoned because he somehow wasn't good enough, is because you let yourself remember."

Dean reached out roughed up Sam's hair.

"Dammit Dean, I'm not 15!" complained Sam.

"Yeah, I know Sammy," he said.

Sam knew that was Dean's way of saying thanks.  Dean was never going to change, but it was one of Sam's missions in life to try to get Dean to see himself the way others saw him.  Sam mentally put this conversation down in the "progress" column.

 

 

 

 

  
  
32.

Tulsa looked like any other medium-sized midwestern city.  This wasn't their first time there.   They had crisscrossed the country so many times over their 35 and 39 years respectively, it seemed they had been almost everywhere at least once.  Dean knew there was great pie at Ann's Bakery, great burgers at Ron's Hamburgers and Chili.  They checked into the Desert Hills Motel on Friday.

By Monday, they had found Charlotte's new practice.  Sam called her office, playing part of someone who was afraid they might be suicidal, and got an appointment for Wednesday.  He made an excuse about having to work and made sure the appointment was at the end of the day so that it could run late and perhaps there would be fewer people in the office building when they were done.  Sam spent the rest of Monday in a booth near the back of several local watering holes.  Bars were the perfect place to find people in pain.  If Charlotte was working with any recruiters, they might be there.

While Sam looked for accomplices, Dean took a drive out into the country.  He found the perfect place; an isolated, long-abandoned train car at least halfway on its journey to sinking back into the earth.  The train car was at the end of a long dirt road and no one would hear Charlotte scream.  Dean took an hour to start getting set up.  He spent the rest of the day in the motel room researching Charlotte, or, rather, the woman Charlotte was riding.  Dean smiled with satisfaction when he found what he was looking for.

That night over a burger (Dean) and chili (Sam) at Ron's, they rehashed the day.  Sam had noticed two people in several different bars; one woman and one man.  They had approached the most pathetic cases and given out business cards.  They each had their own tactics.  The woman flirted and the man acted like someone who had his life entirely together and might look like everything the sad cases he approached could hope to be in an ideal world.  Sam questioned one of the targets and, just as he expected, found that he was holding one of Charlotte's business cards; slipped into his hand by the guy that Sam was now 100% sure was one of Charlotte's two assistants.

After dinner, just to blow off steam, Sam and Dean went and shot a couple rounds of pool.  As usual, they came away with about $700 from a range of now-disgruntled bar patrons.  They returned to the motel and slept a dreamless sleep. 

It had been a long day.

Tuesday was given over entirely to planning.  Dean drove Sam out to the railroad car.  Sam questioned why Dean didn't want to just exorcize Charlotte right there in her office, but Dean said no, it had to be here.  Sam wanted more information but Dean wasn't giving any out.  Sam figured Dean wanted to take a little revenge first and he couldn't really blame him for that.  He'd do the same thing if she had tricked Dean into selling his soul.

Late Tuesday night they broke into Charlotte's office building.  The altered the security cameras to run on an already-recorded generic loop instead of recording any new footage.  They mapped out all the entrances and exits.  They picked the lock to Charlotte's office.  They couldn't put down a devil's trap...Sam's appointment wasn't until the end of the day and it wouldn't do to have Charlotte getting stuck in a devil's trap before then.  Besides, a demon at her pay grade, she might just be smart enough to check her office every morning.  They did stash some holy water within reach, but out of view.  Sam would be in there with a demon with all of her powers.  They couldn't do anything to tip her off.  Dean hated this part of the plan, but Dean was going to be right there when Sam's appointment ended and he'd make sure Sam wasn't in any danger after that. 

They capped off the night by capping Charlotte's assistants.  First they forced them each to send Charlotte a phone message that they'd be busy with potential recruits on Wednesday so she wouldn't be hearing from them.  Then Sam and Dean made sure no one ever heard from them again.  Dean took the guy and Sam took the girl and after the exorcism was complete, they both took the ravaged bodies of the hosts to the hospital; dropping them off at the emergency room and disappearing before the cops arrived.  They'd done this a millions times before.

Wednesday dragged.  They tried taking a long breakfast.  They even did laundry.  Anything to pass the time, but they both felt their adrenaline rise as the day went by.  Sam tried hard not to let it get to him.  He had to appear to be a broken, suicidal guy in a couple of hours.  He hated to admit it, but he knew what that felt like.  He didn't think he'd have a problem playing the part.

Finally it was 4:00.

Sam knocked on Charlotte's office door and the shapely blonde greeted him warmly.  Sam introduced himself as Steven.  He made sure to look nervous like someone coming to a shrink for the first time might look (the way Sam remembered feeling the first time he had actually visited a shrink).  Charlotte offered him a chair and he sat down, long legs sticking out into the middle of the carpet.

"Okay, Steven," Charlotte began, "you contacted me because you're struggling with something.  I'm here to help you."  She put a hand on Sam's forearm in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but, knowing what she was, Sam had to fight every impulse not to flinch away. 

Sam didn't look at her.  "It's my brother," he started.  What the hell.  She was going to be dead soon anyway.

"Okay, tell me about your brother," she encouraged him, "this is a safe place."

Sam started in on his prepared speech about his brother who had a death wish and how hard it was on him and went from there.  He had to sound somewhat believable, so there was some grain of truth in what Sam was telling her.  She actually gave him some pretty good advice about not being able to control others, about only being able to control how you react to others...  She was a pro at laying the groundwork for a long term and trusting relationship with her clients.  No one would come to her if she wasn't any good at it.  But this way, they were like lambs to the slaughter.

 


	7. HOME (part 2) chapters 33 - 36

33.

By 5:15 (Sam’s appointment ran a little late, just as planned), Charlotte turned off the lights in her office and opened the door.  Steven filled doorway.  She looked at him questioningly. 

Sam reached out to grab one wrist as Dean stepped out from around the corner and grabbed her other wrist, pulling it behind her back.  She heard a click and felt a slight burn.  As she he fought off "Steven" with her free hand, she grabbed at his shirt.  Sam went to pull away and his shirt ripped revealing the tattoo on his chest.  Charlotte knew.  She picked Sam up with an invisible force and threw him; hard into the wall up near the ceiling then slammed him down to the floor.  Sam felt his ankle twist under him as he hit the ground and he couldn't help but yell out, "Fuck!"

"Sam?!" called Dean as he quickly put Ruby's knife to Charlotte's throat, “you okay?”

"I'm okay," said Sam, "just get her locked down, would you?" 

With the knife at her throat, sizzling and smoking against her skin, Charlotte stopped fighting.  Dean grabbed her other wrist and slapped the second demon cuff on her.  With the circuit completed, Dean knew there was no smoking out or escaping these.  They were like a portable devil's trap and they'd seen heavy use since Sam & Dean discovered them in the bunker's dungeon. 

They had her.

Charlotte still attempted to struggle; enraged that she'd been tricked.

"Who the fuck are you?" she spat at Dean, eyes going black.  If those cuffs were holding her, then this guy knew what she was.  No point in hiding it now.

"Dean Winchester.  You use that filthy mouth to kiss Lisa?" he asked as he twisted Charlotte's arm painfully behind her back until she cried out, then laughed.  Demons were masochists and usually liked whatever pain was inflicted on them, but it was just Dean's instinct to want to make her hurt.

Confusion flickered across her face momentarily, "Lisa....Lisa in Indiana?"  Charlotte raised her eyebrows and laughed,  "That ship has sailed, honey." 

"Not exactly," replied Dean.  "You hold her contract?"

"No," lied Charlotte.  "Contracts are like mortgages.  They get sold and re-sold, I have no idea who holds it now."

"You're coming with us until you decide to use that filthy mouth of yours to tell the truth," declared Dean as he kept one hand in an iron grip on Charlotte, dragging her over to Sam.  He helped Sam up with his other hand and told Sam to lean on him. 

They took the back stairs as they had planned.   Even though they hadn't planned on Sam barely being able to negotiate stairs on his ankle.  Dean shoved Charlotte unceremoniously into the back seat of the Impala.  They had installed a devil's trap on the Impala's ceiling in painter's tape just to be sure.

 

 

 

 

  
  
34.

Dean had taken every possible safety precaution and, after a short drive, Charlotte was hog tied to a chair in the middle of the old railroad car.  Candles provided the only light since it was rapidly darkening outside.

Sam was trying to keep an eye on Dean even more than Charlotte.  Dean had barely said two words on the drive out and that was not like him.  Usually he couldn't resist taunting a demon if they had one securely bound up.  Especially this demon.  When Dean pulled out a tray of various knives and other equipment, Sam had his suspicions confirmed.

"Dean, no," Sam tried to say it softly.  He was leaning against a wall trying to keep weight off his ankle.  It wasn't hard; anytime he put weight on it he was reminded by a stab of pain that it wasn't a good idea.

"Stay out of this, Sam," said Dean.  "Maybe you should go put your leg up out in the car."  Dean didn't make any eye contact with him.

"I'm not going anywhere," said Sam, "and I'm not going to let you undo years of work."

" 'Let me'?" mocked Dean.  "I think we already talked about this in the car.  This is my party, Sam, and I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want to this evil demon bitch."  With that, Dean filled a syringe with holy water and was injecting it into Charlotte's forearm before Sam could even attempt to stop him.

Charlotte blanched, but quickly regained her composure.  She was powerful.  She stared Dean down, "all I felt was a little prick, honey...made me think that's probably what it would feel like to have my hand on your cock."

Dean backhanded her across the face and her face reddened where he hit her.

"C'mon now Dean," Charlotte all but purred, "you wouldn't want to hurt the nice lady who owns this sweet body, would you?"

Dean smiled wickedly, "You think I was born yesterday, you stupid bitch?" he shot back, "that nice lady you slipped into died in a car accident the night you took the controls," Dean had done his research, the police report had said that the body was never found, but the accident was not survivable.

Charlotte stopped smiling.  She spat at him.  Her spit actually sizzled on the floor.

Dean picked up Ruby's knife.  Playing with it in his hands as he walked towards Charlotte, completely bound and immobile in the chair.

"Come on Dean, smoke her," said Sam.

"Not yet Sam," Dean responded.  Sam noticed an edge to his voice and what might have been described as a sound that was devoid of emotion. Definitely devoid of compassion.

Sam struggled to get to Dean on his rapidly swelling ankle and grabbed his arm but Dean threw his hand off.  "What the fuck, Dean?!" Sam exclaimed.

"I'm not done yet." Dean practically growled at Sam.

"Well if you won't do it, I will," said Sam as he started reciting the exorcism in Latin.

"Shut up Sam!" threatened Dean.  But Sam continued.  Charlotte began choking.

"I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!" yelled Dean as he turned and lowered his shoulder, tackling Sam and knocking the wind out of him as he took him to the ground.  "I'm...not...done!"

Sam looked up at Dean, stunned.  But he stayed down.  He didn't know if his ankle could support his weight at this point.

"What are you doing, Dean?" asked Sam warily.

Dean got up and looked down at Sam, annoyed.  "I'm sending her demon ass to heaven....slowly," said Dean.

"YOU'RE WHAT?!?" gasped Sam.

"You heard me," said Dean flatly.

"Dean, it doesn't work that way; you can't send a demon to heaven; it's against the natural order," protested Sam.

Charlotte had heard Dean too and she suddenly looked slightly green in color.  "No, no, no...you can't send me to heaven," she actually sounded scared.  Her bravado was fading fast.

"Oh yes I can, bitch, and I'm going to," taunted Dean. 

"No, anything but the angels," Charlotte began to plead. 

"Yes," said Dean slowly and with conviction, "Angels."

"What do you want?" asked Charlotte.  She was going to beg.  This was a good start in Dean's opinion.  This was actually better than the physical torture he had planned.  She was on the ropes.  "Lisa's contract is done; gone.  What else do you want?" Charlotte asked in desperation.

"Not one fucking thing," Dean said with satisfaction.  "There is nothing that you have that I want."

"Everybody wants something," scoffed Charlotte.  "All you humans are weak and broken and so pathetically needy.  I even had one asshole sell his soul for a Testarossa.  A FERRARI!" she said in contempt.

“I don’t think I’d go for anything quite that flashy,” Dean smirked sarcastically, "I'm not that shallow."

"Oh, I know that," taunted Charlotte.  "You're deep; or at least that hole you've always tried to fill is deep.  You've spent your whole life trying to do whatever feels good.  Drinking, sex, saving people, whatever you can do try to fill that void.  That nothingness?  It's definitely not shallow; it's bottomless, actually. You're a fucking legend when it comes to dysfunction, Dean Winchester," Charlotte stated.

"Is that so?" asked Dean.

"Sam spent an hour talking about how fucked up you are," she said smugly.  Dean wheeled around gave Sam a death stare.

"Sam?" Dean threatened.  Sam shook his head slowly from side to side and started to mouth, "I didn't -" but before Sam could say anything, Charlotte started back in.  The longer she could keep him talking, the longer she might have a chance.

"You never think about anyone but yourself, Dean," Charlotte said.

"Well, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about because I've spent my whole life doing things for other people," Dean shot back.  Dean was going to shut her up.  He didn't want her taunting him into losing his control.

"And while you're out there 'doing for others', who gets to pick up the wreckage?  Don't forget, I spent a year talking to Lisa.  Damn, she was one broken woman.  I never knew it was because of you...neat trick with her memory, by the way, but you completely screwed her, and not in a good way," Charlotte kept going, "And then there's your guilt-ridden PTSD brother over there," she indicated in Sam's direction with a jerk of her chin, "why do think he's the way he is, huh?  It's you Dean.  Everyone you love has their lives turn to shit and you're the common thread.  You love them so much but you can't leave them alone because you don't have enough self-esteem to fill a thimble without them propping you up and reassuring you all the time," Charlotte had Dean pegged.  She was going to use everything she had quickly figured out to push all those buttons she knew he had.

As Charlotte talked, Dean had his back to her, mixing something in a bowl, as fast as he could.  He had to get her to shut the fuck up.

"And how do you repay them for that devotion to you?" Charlotte was on a roll, "you leave them, you hurt them, you question their ability to run their own lives without you, you -"

Dean was on top of Charlotte now pouring a liquid down her throat.  The smell was horrific as foam poured from her mouth at first a gray-grey, then a bloody red, then black as if her internal organs were dissolving for her to spew out.  Charlotte's eyes narrowed in anger, but she couldn't speak or make any noise aside from sickening gurgling sounds.

"That's better," said Dean with as much nonchalance was he could muster.  "Just a little Drano and few other special ingredients.  Now it's your turn to listen to me, bitch,"  Dean said as he pulled her head back by her hair and stared coldly into her black eyes.

Dean smiled, but it wasn't the least bit attractive on him.  "You know why angels are better at torture than demons?" Dean asked, "because demons torture to get off on it or to create more demons.  But angels, they see you as so filthy, so corrupt, they don't want to turn you into anything at all.  They are going to take their time and take you apart until you are nothing but tiny molecules of dark matter and then they're going to take THAT apart.  Do you know how painful it is to be ripped apart on a molecular level?  It's an agony that you can't even imagine, and I bet you have a real colorful imagination."  Dean was not going to take any chances that the demon holding Lisa's contract was completely and utterly destroyed.  This was the only way he could be sure. 

Dean continued, "But before they snuff out that last piece of darkness, they give you a little taste.  They show you what you could have had if you hadn't been such an evil bitch.  All that heaven could have offered.  All that purity and light.  And just when you've never wanted something so badly, just when you'll lay down before God and take Jesus as your Savior and all that crap; just to hold onto that feeling, that's when they end you.  And there's no forgiveness, no mercy.  Angels are self-righteous douchebags and they are 100 percent sure they are right.  They know without question that you're a filthy piece of shit that's unfit to crawl through slime.  And this only takes an instant, but you'll feel like it's taking centuries.  You know how time feels different in hell?  Well, that's probably the only thing heaven and hell have in common."

Sam looked away.  He hated seeing Dean like this.  Even with a demon.  Dean was capable of incredible cruelty and it was something Sam often tried to forget.

Charlotte's eyes were wide as she continued to gurgle unintelligibly. 

Dean released her head with a forceful shove and stepped back outside the devil's trap.  He began reciting a Latin incantation that Sam had never heard before.  Sam turned back to watch even though he felt physically ill at the sight.

As black liquid dripped from her mouth, black smoke rose from her throat.  Charlotte looked over at Sam with a look of total broken submission.  She was begging him with her eyes.  Sam turned away again and Dean thought he actually saw tears in her eyes.

The black smoke which had been rising slowly turned into a torrent as Dean finished the incantation, but instead of heading to the nearest window or door, the smoke went straight up, blowing a hole through the roof of the train car.  The train car shook with the force of Charlotte's demon soul leaving her host's body.

Dean hurriedly got his shoulder under Sam's and half lifted, half dragged him outside, not really knowing what would happen next. 

Dean was making a run for the Impala, dragging Sam with him, but Sam turned around and looked back long enough to see the black smoke hit a wall of light half a mile up and spread out horizontally across the night sky.  The border between the light and the dark sparked and crackled.

"Come ON Sam," Dean was breathing heavy, "you gotta help me out here; I can't carry you alone."

"Oh my God," said Sam and Dean finally turned to see what Sam was transfixed by.

Dean's mouth opened as vertical columns of darkness poked through the wall of light, shooting upwards, while, simultaneously, lightening broke through the wall of black, shooting downward and converging on the train car which exploded into flames.  Finally a bright light shot out horizontally streaking across the entire night sky from horizon to horizon like a nuclear detonation.

“Run!" commanded Dean and Sam hobbled along, leaning on Dean and moving as fast as he could.

They reached the Impala feeling the hot flames at their back.  Dean threw Sam into the passenger seat and floored it.

 

 

 

35.

Nothing had been said since they got into the Impala and raced away from the burning train car about 10 minutes ago.

"Lost a bunch of tools back there," mumbled Dean.

"Look at me, Dean," ordered Sam.

"Sam, I'm driving here - " protested Dean.

"LOOK AT ME!" said Sam in a way that made Dean look.  "You are never going to touch that torture crap again, do you hear me?!?!"

Dean was shocked at Sam's intensity.  He broke Sam's gaze and nodded silently.

"You've worked for years to put that behind you," Sam reminded him.  "Don't fuck that up, okay?  And I swear to God, if you touch that stuff again, I'll physically hurt you, fucked-up ankle or not."

A few moments passed in silence.

"Okay then," declared Sam, as if they hadn’t just witnesses something never-before-seen only minutes ago, "I'm starving.  Can we stop at Ron's?"

"No way," said Dean, "I'm taking you to the hospital to get that ankle looked at."

"I don't need the hospital," said Sam, "it's just a bad sprain; I just need to get it elevated," he tried to sound as convincing as possible.

Dean looked at him skeptically.  "If I don't take you to the hospital, you're going to have to ice it all night, got it?"

Sam nodded, wincing as he tried to stretch his leg out.  Sam noticed Dean suddenly got quiet.  He knew Dean too well to have to guess what was on his mind.

"It's what demons do, you know," Sam said.

"What?" asked Dean.

"They figure out your weakness and they use it against you," Sam continued, "That's what they do."

"What she said; it's true," said Dean quietly.  "She may have been trying to get to me but she wasn't lying."

"Bullshit," said Sam. 

Dean looked at him questioningly.

"She told you what you believe to be true," said Sam, "She didn't tell you the truth."

"Huh?" asked Dean. 

"You already believe all of those things about yourself, Dean," said Sam.  "You would like to think everything is your fault because that means there might be some way that you could fix it and still control the outcome.  But that's crap.  Shit happens, man."

"Yeah, well, more shit happens around me than most people," insisted Dean.

"No, Dean, it doesn't," insisted Sam.  "Sure, it's different shit...you aren't worried about a sick kid or how you're going to pay the mortgage this month, but shit happens to everyone."

"But I hurt everyone," insisted Dean.

"You think you hurt everyone," said Sam. 

Dean shot him a look. 

"Okay, why the hell do you think so many people care about you?" asked Sam.

"I have no fucking clue," responded Dean.

"Because you're worth caring about," stated Sam, like it was a known fact or something.

Dean scoffed, "You hit your head pretty good back there Sammy," he said by way of explaining what Sam just said.

"Shut up and don't try to make a joke out of this," Sam wasn't going to let it drop.  He always let it drop.  Not today. "You would lay down your life for anyone.  Even a stranger.  Hell, especially a stranger.  You would and HAVE gone to hell and back for me.  You'd probably do it for Ben & Lisa too.  What you do isn't selfish.  It's the opposite of selfish.  You would give everything you have and everything you are to make sure the people you care about are happy," finished Sam. "That's the fucking truth."

Dean didn't say anything, but Sam heard him exhale and relax a bit, finally.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean looked over at him.

"How the hell did you figure that out?   That it was even possible to send a demon to heaven?" asked Sam.

"I asked Cas what would happen, you know, theoretically," responded Dean.  "You know how Cas always answers any question you ask him, and he doesn't lie."

"And then Cas just gave you that incantation?" Sam continued.

"Naw, that was Garth," said Dean.

"Garth?!" questioned Sam.  "Huh," he said, clearly impressed.

"Garth's good, Sammy," said Dean.  "He may not be the scariest son of a bitch hunter we know, but he's pretty awesome."

"Agreed," said Sam, shaking his head in disbelief.  "You'll have to teach me that one."

 

 

 

 

  
  
36.

Dean got Sam set up back at the motel with two pillows under his now-massively-swollen ankle, the TV remote beside him on the bed, and a zip lock bag full of ice on most of his leg below the knee with more ice at the ready in their old green cooler next to him.  Then he left briefly only to return with enough food to feed an army.  Sam saw the "Ron's" bags and smiled.  Dean saw Sam’s smile and felt like maybe he didn't always screw everything up after all. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Mission accomplished, Dean loaded Sam and all their stuff up in the Impala the next day.  He made sure Sam didn't have to lift a finger or put any weight on his ankle in spite of Sam's protests that he felt completely and utterly useless.

They drove east towards the rising sun.  They were home by Thursday night.

 

 


	8. HOME (part 1) chapters 37 - 42

37.

Friday morning, Sam looked at Dean…acting all antsy.  Not like he usually acted when he was at home in the bunker.  Usually it was the only place he could truly relax.  But Dean's behavior was anything but a mystery to Sam. 

"Hey, Dean," Sam tried to get Dean's attention.

"Yeah, what?" asked Dean, obviously completely distracted.

"Go to her," Sam said directly.

"What?" Dean asked as if he had been too distracted to hear what Sam had said.

"Lisa, you dumb stubborn fuck; go to her; it's where you need to be right now," Sam said looking at Dean with a very caring look in his eye despite the "dumb fuck" comment.  That was just brotherly teasing and Dean knew it.

Dean appeared to visibly let go of some of the tension in his shoulders.  "Yeah?" he asked, "but I can't leave you here with your leg; you're on crutches for Christ's sake Sam."

"I called Charlie," said Sam.  "She and Dora and Scarlett will be here tomorrow."

"Charlie's gonna be here?" Dean asked with a bit of a hopeful expression.

"Look man," Sam said, "I know Charlie’s yours, but - "

"She is not 'mine' in any sense of the word!" protested Dean.

"She totally would be if she weren't gay," said Sam with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, true," smirked Dean, "but don't let Dora hear you talking that way; she'd kick your ass."

"Don't think I don't know it," laughed Sam.  "Charlie said they'd like a break and they wanted to come help out.  It'll be good.  Dora said she can't wait to take out some aggression on the shooting range."

Dean's mind reeled a bit thinking about Sam and Charlie sitting around talking about him.  Almost made him nervous enough not to leave.  Almost.

"You okay with little scar-face running around?" asked Dean.  "It's not like you can exactly keep up with her," Dean pointed out.

"You really oughtta call her Scarlett," scolded Sam, "and yeah; she'll be good.  It'll be good to have a kid around," Sam said.  His face softened a bit and Dean knew he meant it.  Sam was good with kids.   And in spite of the endless shit that Dora gave Dean, she had always been unusually caring and sweet with Sam.  Dean knew Sam would be in good hands.

"Get the fuck out of here," Sam said, struggling a bit to hobble over to Dean and give him a hug.  Dean hugged back and whispered, "Thank you Sammy, I mean it; for everything."

"No sweat," said Sam breaking into a smile.

 

 

 

38.

Dean looked downright giddy as he packed his bag.  He was going to hang around for a night to see Charlie, then follow Sam's instructions and go where he needed to be.

Before he finished packing (which never took Dean very long at all), Dean went down the long corridor to one of the bunker's back storerooms.  He remembered seeing something there in a carefully labeled and stored box full of their grandfather Henry's possessions.  He found the box quickly and rummaged around until he felt what he was looking for down in the bottom corner.  He pulled it out and opened the faded black velvet clamshell.  It was a ring.  Looked like it was from the early '30's and had a very cool, almost futuristic art deco design.  Silver in color (Dean had no idea it was platinum) with three small rectangular, flat-topped diamonds.  Dean had wondered what the hell jewelry was doing in this box full of photos and papers until he had found a photo, months earlier, of his grandmother, looking young and beautiful and wearing that ring.  He shoved the faded box into the pocket of his canvas jacket.

 

 

 

39.

Saturday night, Dean and Charlie sat kicked back around the big table in the main hall.  Dora was putting Scarlett to bed after scooping her up out of Dean's lap where she had been curled up with Dean's arms around her slowly getting sleepy, worn out from a long day of hide-and-seek in the labyrinth of the bunker.  Dean had a whiskey and Charlie had coffee.  Dean had gotten a rather flabbergasted Charlie caught up on everything that had happened in the last few weeks and now they were laughing over Dean's re-telling (for a second time and with even more embellishment) of how he saved Garth from the renevant. 

Sam had begged off early.  He was truly exhausted and he was probably asleep before Scarlett.

With Scarlett successfully put to bed, Dora strolled through saying, "you two girls have fun catching up...I'm going to go shoot something," and she turned towards the firing range.

"Don't put holes in my walls with your lousy aim," teased Dean.

"You mean any MORE holes, Annie Oakley?"  she teased right back.

Dean laughed at the insult and tossed back a "Fuck you, Dora".

"You wish, princess," Dora responded, raising a middle finger to Dean, then she turned on her heels and walking towards them.  She walked right up to Charlie and climbed onto her lap, facing her and straddling her on the chair.  Then she leaned in, kissing Charlie, soft at first, then with incredibly intensity.  Charlie wove her fingers through Dora's hair and slightly moaned beneath her.  Dora could do that to Charlie, make her forget they weren't alone; make her forget everything.  Charlie turned 10 shades of red when she heard Dean clear his throat.  The red color deepened when Dora leaned in closer and whispered something incredibly filthy in Charlie's ear about what she planned to do with her later.  A small gasp escaped Charlie as Dora smiled wickedly over her shoulder at Dean who suddenly blushed when he realized he had been staring.  Yup, Charlie had basically married the female version of Dean and damn if this wasn't completely hot.  Dora liked to play the possessive card in front of Dean.  But they all knew where they stood with each other and everyone was good with it.

"If you weren't such an exhibitionist, I wouldn't be looking, you freak,"  Dean said,  smirking at Dora as she caught his eye on purpose.

Dora, regarded Dean over her shoulder, still straddling Charlie, and said, "If you weren't such a pervert, you'd be able to look away."

Dean forced a fake, sarcastic smile, but he didn't refute it.  He couldn't.

"NOW I'm going to go shoot something," said Dora as she abruptly got up.  Charlie slumped in her chair, breathless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"That good, huh?" asked Dean when Dora was out of the room.

"Yeah," said Charlie, trying to get her breath back, "that good."

"Here," said Dean, sliding his glass across the table to Charlie.  Charlie took it and downed what was left.

"Okay, better now," she said sliding the empty glass back over to Dean who refilled it about a third of the way.

When Charlie's color had returned to her normal alabaster, Dean asked, suddenly more serious, "So, what's it like?"

"What's what like?" Charlie replied.

"You know; one person; forever; like you and Dora?" asked Dean.

A huge smile spread across Charlie's face, "Honestly?" she said, "it's awesome."

Dean played with his whiskey glass, "The normal life?  The wife, the kid....you like it?" he asked.

Charlie gave him an extremely skeptical look, "I don't know why you're asking me about a normal life.  Honestly Dean, I have a wife from another dimension."

Dean huffed, "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"But it's good Dean, I mean, it's really good; to know that that person loves you unconditionally...you know, the way Sam loves you, only with sex." Charlie smiled at him.

Dean looked at her, surprised.  He'd never really thought about it that way.  He and Sam were just, well, they were he and Sam.  He would not feel right if Sam weren't around.  He hadn't felt right for the past seven years without Ben & Lisa either though, come to think of it.  Charlie was onto something.

Dean absentmindedly swirled his finger around the edge of his whiskey glass.  Charlie looked at Dean with affection and thought he could almost turn a girl straight.  Almost. 

"I think she's the one," Dean said quietly.  He'd never admitted this to another human being, though he was pretty sure Sam knew it anyway.

"Oh my God...Dean, are you going...are you going to ask Lisa to marry you?" Charlie almost squealed.

"Shut up, okay?" Dean kept his voice quiet.  "I haven't told anyone else.  I don't even know how to start doing something like this."  He looked at Charlie and all of a sudden she thought he looked so vulnerable and unsure of himself. 

Charlie tried to be serious, tried to stop smiling, but she couldn't.  Just the idea of angsty, fucked-up Dean Winchester with the weight of the world on his shoulders actually having someone he could have something real and solid and lasting with was enough to make her want to jump up and down.  She loved him and she really and truly wanted him to be happy. 

"You'll know how and when to ask," Charlie reached out and put her hand on his arm.  "Hot piece of ass like you, she'd be crazy to say 'no'." Charlie smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

But Dean looked more nervous that happy.

"What is it?" asked Charlie.

"It's me...you know...I'm not exactly 'husband' material," he said, eyes down.

"I think you need to let her decide that," said Charlie.  She got up and walked around the table to lean down over Dean’s chair and hug him tight from behind.  He wrapped his arms around Charlie’s and leaned his head back against her. "You know I love you, bitch," said Charlie.

"I know," said Dean.  "You too."

 

 

 

40.

The next morning, Dean walked through the main hall of the bunker with his duffle bag over his shoulder.  Sam was sprawled out in a chair at the table reading...researching something, no doubt.  His brother was such a dork.  He had his injured ankle up on a chair next to him with an ice pack on it.  Sam would never get himself an ice pack.  It must have been Dora.

"You headed out?" Sam asked, not looking up from whatever he was reading.

"Yup," confirmed Dean.  "We won this one, Sammy, time to go collect my reward," Dean said suggestively.

Sam continued to appear buried in his book.  "You got the ring?" Sam asked.

Dean froze.  "How did you...have you been talking to Charlie?" Dean raised his voice _.  (He thought it was pretty much impossible for Sam and Charlie to have talked, since Charlie had been up late with him and Sam was up too early to have run into her.  Charlie wasn't an early riser.  Especially not after the way Dora had basically been fucking her with her eyes in front of Dean the night before.  Yeah, Charlie would be tired today.  Dean knew he should have talked to Sam first, but he was none too sure what Lisa would say and having to admit that sort of rejection to Sam, if it went that way, was more than he could deal with.)_

"I didn't have to talk to Charlie," said Sam, turning around in his chair to look at Dean.  "I know you, Dean.  Hell, I bet I knew you were going to ask her before you did."

"I wish you'd stay out of my head sometimes," groused Dean.

Sam smiled.  "Look, if you can get her to take your sorry ass, we'll make this work."

Dean looked down at Sam, slightly stunned.  He really hadn't thought much beyond just asking Lisa.  "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"I care about Lisa too Dean," Sam responded,  "Can't you see you're better when you're with her?  You sleep better, you smile more, you bitch at me less, you..." Sam could go on and on, and he planned to.

"Okay, I get it," said Dean, rolling his eyes.  Sam took mercy on him and stopped listing Dean's flaws.

"All I'm saying is that Lisa and Ben, they're as much your family as Charlie and Garth and I am," Sam stated it like it was the most obvious fact in the world, "so I think it's good if you make it official."

Dean hadn't planned it, but he reached out and ruffed up Sam's hair which got him a "Dude, get OFF me!" from Sam who swatted at his hand, but Dean didn't listen, he wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and bent down to kiss the top of his head quickly as he said, "Thank you, Sammy." Dean let go and stood up.

Sam turned around in his chair to look up at Dean. Amused at what, for Dean, was a monumental display of affection.  He thought Dean's eyes looked a bit wet.  Actually, he felt his own eyes stinging a bit.  "Bring her home, okay?"  Sam asked softly.

Dean was definitely choked up and all he could do was nod and put his hand on Sam's shoulder, giving it a squeeze before he headed for the door.

 

 

 

41.

Dean drove away from the bunker feeling so light he could hardly believe it.  His mind would not stop working.  It was a long drive, but he had plenty to plan.  True, he had just left home, but he was also driving towards home and couldn't believe how lucky he felt to have both.

He picked up his phone to call Ben.  He had something he had to ask him.

 

 

 

42.

Dean was singing to himself as he turned the key in the lock of Lisa's front door.  He couldn't stop smiling.  He pushed the door open thinking about how badly he needed Lisa wrapped around him right this second.  But he wasn't greeted the way he'd been thinking about for the past day of driving. (And what he'd been thinking about involved a lot of re-adjusting himself in his jeans as he drove.)

The smile drained off his face when he looked up from the door to find Lisa, in the living room, shotgun pointed directly at him.

"What the fuck, Lis'?" he started, "Are you okay? C'mon, put the gun down," he was absolutely sure he must have made a wrong turn and gone back in time or some shit...Lisa had her memory restored, she KNEW him, what the fuck was going on?  All he knew was that having a gun pointed at you was never good.  He wanted that to stop right now. 

"Where's Garth?" Dean asked.  Maybe he'd know what the hell was going on.

"He's at the motel," said Lisa flatly, "I told him I didn't need a babysitter."

Great, Garth wasn't going to be able to shed any light on this situation.

"Okay, just put the gun DOWN," Dean said, more forcefully this time.

Lisa lowered the gun.  She looked so pale, like she might faint.  Her hands were shaking slightly.

She had tears in her eyes as she closed the distance between them and reached up, slapping Dean on the face.  Dean was in total shock, but he managed to haul her into his arms and he let her struggle against him until the fight started to leave her.  When she finally stopped moving, Dean let her go and she walked over to the couch and sat down, glaring at him through her tears. 

"What do you remember?" asked Dean.  He had got to figure out what happened between the time he left for Tulsa and whatever the fuck this was.

"I remember everything," Lisa looked down at the floor.  "Us...our great weekend...the best year of my life...the possession...almost killing Ben (at that tears start to flow a bit harder)...bringing you home a couple weeks ago...the incredible sex we had...getting my memory back...you leaving to find Charlotte…” Dean was completely confused.  If she remembered everything, why was she not all over him?  Why were they not in bed with a lot less clothes right now?  It was all Dean could think about the entire drive back from Tulsa.  He cautiously sat down next to her on the couch and she actually pulled away, putting more space between herself and Dean.  She fucking PULLED AWAY.  "What's going on here Lis'?" Dean asked. 

"Lisa," she corrected him.  "My name's Lisa." 

"Okay," Dean said slowly, "what's going on here, Lisa?" 

"Look Dean," she started, "I loved you.  I wanted a life with you.  But you threw that away, and you've thrown it away more than once." 

Dean was dumbfounded, "Uh, not to point out the obvious, but before I left for Tulsa, we were definitely in this together," he could not hide his confusion.  "We were in it for the long haul." 

Lisa raised an eyebrow "You?  In it for the long haul?" she asked with a touch of mocking in her voice. 

"Yes," continued Dean, getting a bit of a sarcastic tone in his voice without meaning to because this was starting to hurt, a lot, "any memory of, oh, I don't know, you telling me, 'you're the only one that ever mattered'?" 

Lisa looked down, "Yes.  I meant that," she said quietly.  Dean felt a small rush of not-quite-total-devastation-after-all.  "I just think that after all that's happened, all we've been through, we have to take it slow." 

 _'Slow?'_ thought Dean.  He'd barely been able to keep his hands off himself on the drive from the bunker to Lisa's thinking about her as the mile markers seemed to pass by so much more slowly than he had wanted them to.  He took a deep breath.  "Okay Lis', I mean, Lisa." he began, "Maybe we both need a little time to think.  I'll get a room out at the Courtesy and I'm going to ask if I can come by and talk to you tomorrow.  Can I do that?" 

"Yes," said Lisa quietly, not even looking at him and with a lot less enthusiasm than Dean had hoped for.  He got up to head for the door, head spinning.  This is not the way he thought today would go. 

"Dean?" Lisa said as Dean turned the doorknob on the front door, "Yeah?" he asked, not turning around to look at her.  "Please don't run," she said in a whisper. 

Dean still couldn't turn around to look at her or he thought he might completely lose it.  He said, "I'm not running anywhere," as he walked out onto the porch.


	9. HOME (part 1) chapters 43 - 45

43.

Dean pulled the Impala off the road under the shade of some trees.  An hour ago he thought he might die from an "erection lasting more than 4 hours" as the ads said.

Now, what he'd been obsessed with ever since he left Kansas was nothing but a distant memory.  Dean rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.  What the fuck was going on?  "Cas!" he yelled into thin air. 

Nothing. 

With the sexual adrenaline all but gone, Dean realized how exhausted he was from the long drive.  He felt adrift.  Nothing was really making sense right now.  He closed his eyes, leaned back in the driver's seat, and tried to let the sound of the wind in the trees quiet his mind.

Dean woke with a start.  The sun was sinking towards dusk and Cas was in the passenger seat with his hand on Dean's arm.  "You called for me?" asked Cas, staring at Dean in that way-too-intense way of his.  Dean sensed some concern and even a little sympathy.  Cas must be getting a bit soft after all these years. 

Dean sighed heavily and looked straight ahead out the front window  "What the fuck, Cas?" he asked.

"You're going to have to be more specific," said Cas.

"Lisa got her memory back, thanks to you," Dean said, "and before I left for Tulsa, we were in it, together.  Me & Lis’."  Dean's voice caught a bit.  Cas squeezed his arm slightly and Dean was surprised at the comforting gesture, but he let Cas do it.  He was desperate for a little comfort right now.

"Me & Lisa..." Dean trailed off, sounding like that label for what he had was something in the past.

"Go on," said Cas.

"I come back today, sure she's going to be all over me.  I mean, we won.  Charlotte's dead.  The demon deal is off.  We're in the clear and she acts like I'm someone she can't trust," Dean finished, looking at Cas in hopes of some kind of explanation.

"Interesting," said Cas thoughtfully.

"Well, I though 'craptastic' was a better description, personally," sulked Dean. 

When Cas didn't say anything right away, Dean broke the silence, "I can hear you thinking man, what do you think is going on?"

"You can hear me thinking?" said Cas, wide-eyed.

"It's a figure of speech, Cas," said Dean with a little irritation.

"Oh" said Cas. "Okay, think about it, Dean...when Lisa made her deal with Charlotte, even though she didn't know she was making a deal, the deal was for her soulmate.  That's you."

"Thanks for the newsflash," said Dean sarcastically.

Cas gave Dean a stern look and continued, "When you killed Charlotte, that broke the deal.  The deal was to find her soulmate and you fulfilled that promise and Lisa thought everything was perfect. That's the way people feel when they have made a deal with a demon."

Dean thought a minute and said, "So you're saying it's not me?  I'm not the one she's supposed to be with?  It was all just some sort of love spell because of the demon deal?"  Dean really couldn't hide the desperation in his voice any longer.

"No Dean," said Cas.  "If you weren't actually her soulmate, then you would not have been the reward for her entering into the deal with the demon.  You and Lisa; you are meant to be.  I meant it when I said you were her destiny and she is yours."'

"Then why is she acting like I'm some sort of asshole?" asked Dean.

"Have you not been an asshole at times in your relationship with Lisa?" questioned Cas.

Dean snapped his head around, "I love her, Cas!" he said.  "Do you fucking understand that?"

"That is beside the point," said Cas.  "Have you not, at times, been an asshole?" he repeated with sincerity.

Dean looked down at his hands, then back out the windshield.  "Yes, okay YES!  I've been an asshole."

"Lisa remembers everything.  The good and the bad.  Without the benefit of the deal, she is not able to look past the bad," Cas reasoned.

"So I'm screwed then.  Is that it, Cas?  No forgiveness and no clean slate for a Winchester ever, is that it?" Dean said angrily. "I should probably just hit the road.  Stop fucking up her life."

"What did she say the last time you talked to her?" asked Cas.

"She told me not to run," said Dean.

"You should listen to her Dean," said Cas.  "When two people are meant to be together, even if they must spend time apart, they will always find each other in the end.  That is how is has to be.  That is how it is.  Listen to her."

"What do I do now?" Dean asked, looking Cas directly in the eye finally, almost pleading.

"You don't run," replied Cas and in a rush of wind, he was gone.

 

 

 

44.

Dean was stretched out on the motel bed, staring up at the ceiling.  He desperately hoped for more sleep, but his mind would not stop running on overdrive.  He had no clue where to start.  The things Lisa knew about him, this was really him...all the for-shit history and mistakes and people around him dying.  She knew it all.  Dean could not come up with a single scenario in which what Cas had said could actually come to pass.  With all she knew now, there's no way in hell she'd ever choose him.  He was far too fucked-up and she deserved better and -

Dean's phone rang.

"Hello Dean," came Lisa's voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello Lisa," he said feeling so uncomfortably formal when all he wanted to do was call her Lis' and make her laugh and fuck her into next week. 

"I'd like to see you.  I want to talk," she said. 

"Sure; you call it; you want me to come over?" Dean asked trying to say it with as much patience and caring as he could muster even though he was terrified that he was walking into a "it's not you, it's me" conversation where the other shoe would drop and crush him like an anvil.

"No, let's meet somewhere neutral; maybe the coffee shop downtown.  It's quiet there," Lisa suggested.

"I'll be there in five minutes," said Dean.

"Good," replied Lisa.  Dean hoped he had detected a slight smile in her voice.  Shit, he actually had butterflies.

Even though he was sure that Lisa, knowing all about the real him and what he'd done and what his life was about would never in a million fucking years choose to stay with him, he couldn't help but try to dress up the exterior a bit.  He stuck his head under the faucet and got his hair to lay right, he shaved as quickly as possible and put on a shirt with actual buttons along with a dark pair of jeans that he knew fit is ass so well there wasn't a single gay guyfor 100 miles around that wouldn't stare as he walked by.  He threw on his least-scuffed pair of boots and headed out the door.

 

 

 

 

  
45.

Lisa looked up when the cafe doorbell jingled as Dean walked in.  She felt her face get hot.  Damn, he looked so...damn...good.  _'Upstairs brain, Lisa,'_ she admonished herself. 

Dean saw her and smiled like he'd won the damn lottery as he walked over to her.  Inside, his confidence was a solid zero, but he was doing everything he could not to show it.

As a result of them both trying to keep everything under control, neither really knew how to start the conversation.

Lisa reached out a hand to Dean across the table as he sat down.  He gratefully took it.

"I don't know where to start," she admitted.

"I think you should start wherever you want to start," Dean said.  Though his conversation with Cas had at least given him a clue, he had no idea where this was going or how it was going to get there.

"Dean, you're the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, all at the same time," Lisa confessed.  He had saved her life more than once and he had also been the one who had almost gotten her killed more than once.  "I don't feel right when you're not around...and when you are around, everything feels right but I can't stop thinking about the fact that there will always be a time when you leave."  She finally looked up and straight into his eyes. 

Dean swallowed hard but didn't break her gaze.  "Not this time," he said with conviction.

Lisa raised an eyebrow.  "So you're going to give up hunting again?  We tried that.  It didn't work.  It's part of who you are."

"You're right," Dean said, "You're absolutely right Lis'," Lisa didn't correct him on her name this time. "But I don't feel right when I’m away from you either.  I need you Lisa," he was almost pleading.  He was completely sincere and open for once in his life.  If ever there was a time to lay it all out there, it was now.

Lisa smiled just a tiny bit.  Dean smiled back.  "And about Sam," Lisa continued.

 _'Sam?'_ thought Dean, _'what does Sam have to do with any of this?'_ He gave Lisa a perplexed look.

"Look, I know that you and Sam, you have a thing," she said.  Dean started shaking his head in denial and Lisa continued, "no, not like that," she laughed quietly.  "I know that Sam is part of who you are too.  I know it's not possible for you to choose between me and Sam and I just want you to know that I would never ask you to do that.  You can't keep leaving me for Sam and you can't keep leaving Sam for me.  Sam's happiness makes you happy.  I want you to be happy.  I want you to know that I care about Sam too."

Dean's heart kind of twisted in his chest.  He SO didn't deserve this.  Dean bit down on his lip in an effort to keep it together and squeezed her hand tightly.

"So if this is going to work, this...'us'," Lisa continued, "it has to be all of us.  We have to figure out how to make some sort of family out of this."

Dean could hardly believe what she was saying, "Have you been talking to Sam?" he asked.

"Why?," asked Lisa with a wary smile, "did Sam say the same thing?"

"Bascially, yeah," confirmed Dean.

Lisa shook her head slightly, "No, I haven't talked to Sam, but I'm glad we're on the same page."

Dean's heart felt like it might explode, so he had to change the topic slightly.

"I gotta ask," Dean said, "what was with the shotgun?  I mean, it was ME, Lis'."

Lisa sighed heavily.  "I don't know how to explain it," she said.  "While you were gone, it felt like a switch flipped.  One day I was ready to do anything and everything for you; completely lose myself and who I was and do whatever you asked just to keep you.  Then the next day I was scared. "

 _'The day I killed that Charlotte bitch,'_ thought Dean to himself.  Cas had been right on the money. "Scared of me?" asked Dean.

"Scared of how much I feel for you and realizing that, so far, whenever I try to hold onto this amazing thing, no matter what I do, it always ends up hurting," she finished, not looking at him.  "I think the shotgun was, I don't know, some fucked-up way of me trying to protect myself from any more hurting."

Dean reached across the small table and touched her face.  She looked up at him.

"Listen to me, Lis'," he said firmly, "we've been through it all, I've PUT YOU through it all.  I know we've tried this before, but I'm done just trying."

To hell with planning, thought Dean.

He got up and circled around to Lisa's side of the table and got down on one knee.  He had no clue what he was going to say.

"Lisa Braeden, I know I am a completely fucked-up mess, believe me, I know, but if you'll have me I'll never stop working to be better for you.  You are incredible and I cannot imagine my life without you in it any more.  I want you.  I want us...if you'll have me," he pulled the box out of his coat pocket and opened it, offering it, and himself, up to her.  "Marry me?"

Lisa was blindsided.  Not in a million years had she thought that Dean Winchester would ever offer her this kind of commitment, and maybe she should take some time to think about it, weigh the pros and cons…there were probably a million reasons why she shouldn’t say -

"Yes."

To hell with planning.

Dean had to hold onto the ring box to keep it from flying out of his hand as he stood up and pulled Lisa with him and now she was wrapping herself around him, just the way he'd imagined.  He dropped his head to kiss her and she actually backed him up against the wall she was kissing him so hard.  He loved it.

When they came up for air she was laughing and Dean fumbled with the box a little, getting the ring out.  He slipped it onto her ring finger and it was a bit large so she happily shifted it to her middle finger and laced her fingers through his.

"Sorry it doesn't fit," Dean apologized.  He had no idea what size Lisa was and had just taken a gamble.

"It's perfect," Lisa said.

"It was my grandmother's," Dean told her.  Lisa knew how family was everything to Dean.  That he had given her this ring, from his family... she knew how deep that went for him and that was infinitely more meaningful than something that had a larger stone or was more expensive or fit perfectly.  Since when was her life ever a perfect fit anyway?

"What was her name?" Lisa asked.

"Elizabeth," Dean replied.  “But my grandfather called her Millie.”

"I'll make Elizabeth proud," declared Lisa, "I'm going to take amazing care of you, Dean Winchester."

Dean kissed her.

"We should call Ben," Lisa suddenly remembered Ben.

"Already did," said Dean with some pride in his voice.

"Wait, you ASKED BEN if you could marry me?!  You asked him after I had a shotgun pointed at you?" Lisa asked incredulously.

"Yeah, he's part of this too," said Dean.  "Actually I asked him on the drive over here, before you pointed the shotgun at me.  He said good luck getting you to take my sorry ass....actually Sam said pretty much the same thing."

Lisa laughed, then buried her head in his button-down-shirt-clad chest, hugging him.

Lisa looked up at him, suddenly serious.  "There's something I need to tell you," she said, "about Ben." 

"What about Ben?" asked Dean

Lisa took a deep breath.  If they were really going to do this, she had to lay it all out on the table.  She desperately wanted to find a way to make this less stark, but she couldn't think of a better way to say, “He’s yours.  He's your son."   She waited for the bad reaction she'd imagined all these years.  None came.

When Dean's arms only tightened around her, she looked up, clearly surprised.  She searched Dean's face for any sign of anger, or hurt, or anything else he had feared finding there...she found him looking down at her with a slight smile.

"You already knew," she said.

"I've always felt he was my son, Lis’," said Dean. "Biological or not, I've always felt that way.  Why didn't you ever feel like you could tell me?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I never wanted you to stay because you had to.  I only wanted you to stay with us if you actually wanted us to be your family," she finished.

"I never wanted anything more," sighed Dean, not letting her go.  "Does Ben know?" Dean asked.

"We talked right after you left for Tulsa," she said. 

Dean thought back to his phone call with Ben. _'Bastard,'_ thought Dean, _'he never let on throughout the whole call'._

"And how'd that go?" asked Dean.

"He said he'd need some time to get used to the idea, but he was proud to be your son," she finished, eyes shining.

"God, I love you, Lis'." Dean suddenly blurted out.

"I love you too," she replied. 

"And we can still take it slow, okay?  I want to do this right," Dean offered though he knew taking it slow might kill him.  “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Lisa smirked, “There are a few ways I’d love to lead you right now; astray for one…,” she said suggestively as she slowly ran her hand down the front of his jeans.  She paused when she found what she was looking for which caused Dean to gasp a little. She looked up at him, enjoying watching how hot and bothered she was making him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean said with some difficulty.

Dean looked down at her and saw in her eyes more than he could describe; love and hope and expectation and the ever-present, all-important forgiveness.

Dean couldn't know that she was seeing those same things when she looked up at him, mirrored right back at her.

"Let's go home," she said.

 

 

 

 

End of Part 1


End file.
